


Potter-Shaped Malfoy

by bryoneybrynn



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: M/M, flangst
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-08-16
Updated: 2015-08-16
Packaged: 2018-04-15 02:13:44
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 32,765
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4589157
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/bryoneybrynn/pseuds/bryoneybrynn
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The war’s long over but everybody still hates the Malfoys. Everyone except Al Potter, that is. Can friendship between the son of a Death Eater and the son of the Chosen One work? Can it last?</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> **Warning(s):** Boy on boy action, completely gratuitous use of the f-word, lots of teenage angsting about, general snarkiness
> 
> **Disclaimer:** All Harry Potter characters herein are the property of J.K. Rowling and Bloomsbury/Scholastic. No copyright infringement is intended.
> 
> **Author's Notes:** Written for the_ass_fest over on livejournal. Original prompts used were: Hogwarts fic set in the later years with Ravenclaw!Scorp and Slytherin!Al, a hint of h/d in the background (preferably with Harry and Draco each divorced from their respective wives) and a peek at parental reactions to as/s. Prompts were library, studying, friendship, and a hot drawing of the boys kissing. Hopefully I’ve done it all justice. 
> 
> Also, my version of the boys both have birthdays in the autumn (Al in September and Scorp in October if you’re wondering) so they are 18 for most parts of the fic and definitely for the parts that matter – you know what I mean!
> 
> Many thanks to my betas, Blamebramptom, abusing_sarcasm, uninhibited333, and who_la_hoop, who put in much hard work in a very short amount of time. I owe you a kidney or something. First come, first serve.

Potter Shaped Malfoy

“Our lives are shaped by those who love us,  
And by those who refuse to love us.”  
-Unknown

First Year

1.

“You’ve got all your things?”

His father was looking at him, a line of anxiety creasing his forehead. Scorpius fought the urge to roll his eyes. They had already been over this several times. “Yes, Dad.”

“Wand?”

He patted his pocket. “Right here.” 

“Money?”

“Right here, too. Honestly, I’m going to be fine.”

They both knew it was a lie.

In fact, Scorpius thought he was about as far from fine as he could get and it was very unlikely that was going to change any time soon. Not for about seven years.

They had made the decision together for him to go to Hogwarts. He and his father had talked about it at length (his mother conspicuously absent from the conversation, as she was from all conversations about his life and well-being) and it really was the best choice as far as his future was concerned.

“People will be looking for excuses to exclude you,” his father had said, “to keep you from opportunities others your age will have. An education from Durmstrang will convince them you are Dark. An education from Beauxbatons will convince them you are a coward. And both will be seen as substandard in terms of your skill and knowledge. Only Hogwarts will satisfy them. It’s not fair, but it’s the truth of it.”

And, they had reasoned, it wasn’t as though he was the first child of a Death Eater to attend Hogwarts since the war ended. There had been lots of them. There were even some kids he already knew at Hogwarts, kids whose families had also made ‘poor choices’ during the war, like Miranda Goyle and Joshua Nott. Plus, Bella Parkinson and Andrew Macnair were both starting this year. It would be okay, they had told each other, he and his father. The war was a long time ago, everything would work out.

In the summer, it had all made so much sense, but standing here on Platform 9 & 3/4, Scorpius began to doubt the decision. There were eyes on him – even more so than usual, and that was saying something. He could feel them boring into him with heated hostility. He struggled not to break under the scrutiny; it would only worry his father more. 

The war may have been long over but, in Scorpius’s experience, people had even longer memories. He saw it every day in the cold looks his father received when they were out together, the way people skirted around them on the street or, conversely, how frequently they were ‘accidentally’ bumped into. He saw it in the way shopkeepers mysteriously disappeared whenever they needed to buy something, the way everyone always seemed to have ‘just run out’ of the thing his father was looking for. Restaurants with empty tables were unable to seat them. Service people couldn’t fit them into their schedules. The only place they were consistently treated well was Gringotts. After all, a Death Eater’s gold was worth as much as anyone else’s and even after the reparations demanded by the Ministry, the Malfoys had a lot of gold.

Scorpius was not ignorant of his family’s role in the war. He knew who his grandfather was, though he had never met the man. He knew Lucius Malfoy had been ambitious and brutal, willing to do anything to achieve power. He knew many people had died under his wand. The official line was that Lucius’s loyalty to Voldemort had wavered in the final hour, replaced by concern for his son, but Scorpius had overheard enough of his father’s rants to know this had more to do with Lucius realising he was on the losing side than fatherly love. Yes, Lucius Malfoy was a nasty piece of work who only escaped Azkaban thanks to some clever PR, a very impressive team of lawyers, and the fact that not all members of the Wizengamot were above accepting bribes.

Scorpius knew who his father was, too. Draco Malfoy, crown prince of Slytherin, the youngest Death Eater in Voldemort’s service, the man who had tried to kill Albus Dumbledore. He knew his father had acted under coercion, had hated every minute of it. He knew his father was still haunted by his memories of the war – he never slept enough, drank a little too much scotch to be entirely healthy, often had shadows in his eyes. It hurt Scorpius to see it but he had long ago accepted that it wasn’t something he could change. 

So he knew his family was not well-liked by much of the wizarding world. Still, though, the crowd at King’s Cross station seemed especially hostile. That was probably, Scorpius thought, because many of the parents gathered today knew his father personally. They had all been at school together during Voldemort’s rise to power. And then there was also the presence of the Potters, who were currently being swarmed by the press. There was nothing like having his father and Harry Potter in the same place to remind people of exactly who the Malfoys were. Sure enough, Scorpius had seen some of the media scrum take note of his family’s arrival. Moments later, flashes were putting stars in his eyes.

His father did his best to insert his body between Scorpius and the press.

“You’d best get on the train, son,” he said gently. “They won’t be able to bother you there.”

Scorpius felt a lump in his throat. “Okay, Dad.”

When he looked up, he thought his father’s eyes looked suspiciously shiny. “I love you, Scorpius. Work hard, try to have some fun. For all that was bad about my years there, there was much that was good, too. Hogwarts is a wonderful place.”

He hugged his father hard and then his mother. She seemed somewhat startled, her hand settling on his head in a brief, absent-minded pat.

“Have a good year, dear,” she said.

Scorpius gathered up his things. He was just about to head for the train when his father stopped him, pulled him into another tight hug, and whispered into his hair, “If things don’t go well, if it’s too much, just send me an owl. I can have you back home within the day.”

***

Scorpius went all the way to the back of the train and found an empty compartment. He wasn’t entirely sure he wasn’t going to cry and he’d prefer not to be seen doing so – it was going to be hard enough to make friends as it was. Despite the ominous stinging behind his eyes, no tears fell. He was glad – even alone, it would have been humiliating.

“Hey, do you mind if I sit here?”

The voice startled him and he jumped. He had been so wrapped up in his internal struggle against tears, he hadn’t noticed the door slide open. 

“Sorry, didn’t mean to scare you,” said the boy standing in the doorway. He had green eyes and messy black hair that stood up in all directions. His face, which wore an easy smile, was one Scorpius recognised. He had seen it in the papers often. And of course, it looked so very much like another famous face.

“You’re Albus Potter,” Scorpius said and then inwardly cursed himself. How stupid must he have sounded?

The boy looked surprised. “Yeah, how’d you know?”

“I’ve seen you in the paper. Plus, you look like your dad.”

The boy rolled his eyes. 

Scorpius looked away, feeling awkward. “Sorry. You must hear that all the time.”

“Yeah, I do, but I don’t mind. I kind of like looking like my dad,” Albus said cheerfully. “So can I come in?”

“Oh, sorry, of course. Please.”

Scorpius watched as Albus took off his rucksack and coat. He noticed that, despite the easy smile, Albus’s body seemed tense and his movements were uncoordinated. Perhaps Scorpius wasn’t the only one feeling nervous at the prospect of starting at Hogwarts. Albus lifted his trunk up onto the baggage rack, struggling only a little to get it into place. “My dad put a lightening spell on it for me.”

“Mine, too.”

Once the trunk was safely stowed, Al flopped down onto his seat. “I’m just glad to be on the train already. My mum was driving me mental with her fussing and James wouldn’t shut up with bugging me. And all those reporters. I hate them! We could barely make it to the train, everyone trying to talk to my dad and get pictures of us and shouting at me, asking if I was nervous about starting Hogwarts, if I was going to be in Gryffindor like my father and brother, if I was looking forward to playing bloody Quidditch!” 

“Mmm.” Scorpius wasn’t exactly sure what to say. He didn’t have much experience with making conversation with people his own age.

Fortunately, Albus seemed willing to fill in the gaps. “That’s the real problem with me looking like my dad – people almost forget I’m not him. It’s a pain in the arse alright. But you’d know all about that, too, huh?”

Scorpius frowned, confused.

“You’re Scorpius Malfoy, aren’t you?”

Scorpius nodded and tried not to blush.

“Draco Malfoy’s son, right?”

Scorpius nodded again.

“I saw you standing with your dad. You look just like him. And I know the press likes to go after him a lot –”

Scorpius did blush then. He was only too aware his father was never in the press for anything good.

“Oh, shit. I’m sorry. What a stupid thing to say. I just meant you must get a lot of unwanted attention from the press too.”

Scorpius blinked. He had never met anyone his age who swore so casually before. “That’s okay.”

“Yeah, but still. Great start, Al,” he said, shaking his head at himself. “Not only did I get my father’s looks, I also got his inability to talk like a normal human being.” 

Scorpius gave him a small smile.

“So are you much like your dad?” Al continued. “Aside from the looks, I mean.”

“Um, I suppose so. At least in some things. But I’m not as, um, excitable as he is. My dad’s also really into Quidditch and I –”

Scorpius broke off, suddenly remembering that Albus’s parents were both well-known for their skills on the pitch.

Albus apparently guessed the cause of his sudden silence. “It’s okay if you don’t like Quidditch. You won’t hurt my feelings. I don’t care for it much myself. Which pretty much makes me a freak in my family, but there you go.”

They spent a while abusing Quidditch and its fans, sharing stories of their own failed attempts at the sport and comparing their fathers’ recollections of Hogwarts. Scorpius found it surprisingly easy to talk to Albus. There was something comfortable about the dark-haired boy. Albus seemed to relax too, his movements calming and his body slouching in his seat. By the time the food trolley came, it felt like they had known each other for much longer than a couple of hours.

Albus insisted on buying them both one of everything on the cart. “My dad says it’s tradition, it’s what he and my Uncle Ron did their first time on the Hogwarts Express. That was the first time they met, you know, and they’re still best mates today.”

Scorpius thought he sensed an unspoken _Maybe that will be you and me_ hanging between them. He hoped he did anyway. But he wasn’t going to say so. He might not have a lot of experience talking with other kids but he was pretty certain that would sound pathetic. 

He watched as Albus sorted the various sweets into piles, debating which to eat first.

“Can I ask you a question?” 

“Of course,” Albus said, not looking up from his Chocolate Frogs.

“What are you doing here?”

Albus shot him a confused look. “What do you mean? I’m taking the train to school, just like you.”

“No, I mean what are you doing here in this compartment with me? You must know a tonne of people. I saw you with your family before, I know a group of them got on the train too.”

Albus looked slightly embarrassed and gave a small shrug. “Oh, yeah, well. Let’s just say I’ve spent more than enough time with my family. Don’t get me wrong, they’re great. But it would be nice to have one friend who wasn’t related to me, you know?”

Scorpius didn’t really know at all, seeing as he hadn’t much in the way of friends or family. But he nodded anyway.

“Besides,” Albus continued, “I was hoping I might run into you.”

“Me? What for?”

“Well, I don’t know, I saw you on the platform with your parents and I just thought, ‘I bet he gets it, what it’s like to be stared at all the time, to have people think they know all about you just cause they know your last name.’ I mean, I know it’s different for you but in some ways it’s got to be the same, too, right?” Albus shifted in his seat, looking slightly agitated. “I suppose I thought if there was anyone on this train who might be more interested in _me_ than in ‘Harry Potter’s son’, it would be you.” Al started to grin at him but, halfway there, the smile disappeared and he suddenly looked anxious. “Shit, was that totally stupid? Did I just offend you completely?” Albus pushed a hand through his dark hair, making it stand up in an alarming manner. 

Scorpius didn’t answer right away, momentarily stunned into silence by the thought of a Potter worrying about offending a Malfoy.

“So let me get this straight,” he said once he found his voice again. “You, Albus Potter, son of Harry Potter, want to be friends with me _because_ I’m a Malfoy?”

“First, it’s Al, not Albus. It’s bad enough all us Potter kids are named after a load of dead people but did my dad have to give both the good names to James? Second, that’s not the _only_ reason I want to be friends with you. When I saw you on the platform, I noticed you were holding a book about Chameleon Ghouls. I happen to really like Chameleon Ghouls and no one else I know does. So not only do we have something in common with the whole ‘you think you know me cause you’ve seen my dad in the paper’ thing but I’d finally have a friend I could talk to about Chameleon Ghouls without them looking at me like I’ve got a second head or something. Plus, we both don’t like Quidditch. See, lots to build on.”

“You could see the title of the book I was holding?” Scorpius asked, giving the other boy a suspicious look. “All the way from the other side of the platform? You must have _really_ good eyesight.” 

Albus, or rather, Al, rolled his eyes and gave him a sheepish grin. “Okay, fine. I saw the book right now sitting there beside you and made it up because I just realised it was a pretty shitty thing to do to come along and tell you I want to be friends with you because your dad doesn’t really like my dad. Forget Slytherin, with schemes like that, I’m headed straight for Hufflepuff. Though really, I do think Chameleon Ghouls are pretty cool. I hear they have some at Hogwarts, pretending to be suits of armour.”

“You think you’re going to get sorted into Slytherin?”

“What? Oh, no. I don’t know. My whole family’s been in Gryffindor forever but I don’t know if that’s quite me. James, my brother, was going on about how I’d be sorted in Slytherin and I was kind of upset about it. My Uncle Ron swears Slytherin is all full of dark wizards. ‘You can’t trust a Slytherin further than you can throw him,’ as he likes to say. But then my dad said Slytherin’s okay and now, I don’t know. I’ve been thinking it might be kind of nice to be somewhere other than Gryffindor. I mean, my brother’s there and most of my cousins and I’m sure Rose will end up there. Ravenclaw would be good, though I’m not sure I have the brains for it, but Slytherin might not be so bad. Or even Hufflepuff.”

Before Scorpius could respond – Al talked _a lot_ – the door to the compartment banged open. A boy stood in the doorframe. He looked a bit older than Scorpius and Al, maybe third year. He had reddish hair and brown eyes. Scorpius recognised him from the papers, of course, just as he had Al. James Potter – Harry’s first-born, Gryffindor’s rising Quidditch star, and schoolgirl heartthrob. At least according to the _Prophet_ , anyway.

James’s eyes found Al and a friendly smile broke over his face. “Hey arse-face, so this is where you –” He cut off as he caught sight of Scorpius. “Oh no. Al, no. You are not seriously sitting with the Malfoy kid.”

Al glared at him. “Don’t be so rude. His name is Scorpius and yes, I am sitting with him. Why shouldn’t I?”

James gave him an incredulous look. “Cause he’s a Malfoy, maybe? Seriously, do you know what his father did to Dad?”

“No, I don’t. And I don’t care either.”

James looked over at Scorpius and then back to his brother. “Al, I’m not messing around. This kid is trouble. You shouldn’t be here with him.”

“He is not trouble. He hasn’t been doing anything at all except sitting here talking with me. The only one I see acting like a shit around here is you.”

“Jesus, Al. What is with you?”

“Nothing’s with me. I just don’t appreciate you barging in here and bad-mouthing my friend.”

“Your friend? You’re kidding, right?”

“No, I’m not. And if you don’t like it, you don’t have to stay. Don’t you have a throng of adoring fans waiting for you somewhere, anyway?” 

James ignored this. “Look, I came to find you because I wanted to introduce you to my friends. Everyone’s dying to meet you. Why don’t you come with me and say hello?”

“I think I’m going to stay here, thanks.”

James pulled Al into the corridor and closed the door. Scorpius could hear their voices, James’s switching back and forth between concerned and angry, Al’s steadily determined. After a few minutes, James stomped off and Al came back into the compartment.

“Sorry about that. He can be a bit of a berk sometimes. He means well, he just, well, I don’t know. He puts too much store by what my Uncle Ron says.”

“You don’t have to stay if you don’t want to. I mean, I’ll understand.” Really, he should have known it couldn’t last. 

But Al surprised him, giving him a wide, warm smile, the kind of smile no one had ever given him before. 

“No. I’m where I want to be. Now, I believe we were talking about houses. Any idea where you’ll be sorted?”

***

Unfortunately, James’s attitude towards Scorpius seemed to be much more prevalent amongst the other students than Al’s. As they got off the train and milled about waiting to be guided towards the boats, Scorpius noticed many dark looks coming his way. Moreover, these looks seemed to grow even darker when they saw Albus Potter by his side. Several times, people approached Al, introducing themselves and inviting him to share their boat on the journey across. They always pointedly ignored Scorpius. This continued even once they were in their boat, the two girls who were sitting with them disregarding him completely.

As they stood waiting to be led into the Great Hall for the Sorting Ceremony, Scorpius couldn’t help noticing that while he was elbowed and bumped more than once, Al received only friendly claps on the shoulder and handshakes. Several times people jostled into Scorpius roughly, trying to insert themselves between him and Al but each time Al’s hand shot out and pulled him back to his side. Scorpius was torn between feeling grateful and confused by the show of loyalty.

Then the Sorting was upon them and they were standing in front of hundreds of students. Looking out over the long tables, there were a couple of people Scorpius recognised – Miranda Goyle over at Ravenclaw, Lucy Zabini in Slytherin and, of course, Al’s brother in Gryffindor. Goyle and Zabini were both pointedly looking anywhere but in his direction, apparently afraid to be associated with him even by gaze. James Potter was glaring at him as though willing him to spontaneously combust through the force of his stare alone. The other students, the ones Scorpius didn’t know, seemed to alternate between scowling at him and pointing excitedly at Al. Scorpius shifted nervously.

Al’s hand curled around his for a brief moment, warm and reassuring. “It will be all right.”

The Sorting seemed to go by in a rush. Scorpius watched closely when Andrew Macnair was sorted. There was a bit of a buzz when his name was called but he was welcomed readily enough into his house, Hufflepuff. 

So, Death Eater kids weren’t instantly torn to pieces by their houses. Good to know. 

Then came Timothy MacKinley, to Gryffindor, and then Scorpius’s name was called. Instead of the buzzing that had followed Macnair to the stool, a hush descended over the hall. The silence was thick and heavy. Scorpius felt as though it was swallowing up all the air in the room, making it hard to breathe. With shaky legs, he made his way over to the stool. He sat gingerly, focusing hard on not vomiting or passing out in front of the whole school.

The hat had barely touched his head when it shouted out, “Ravenclaw.”

The suffocating silence remained. No one at the Ravenclaw table clapped or even smiled. Most of them looked dumbfounded, though he caught a few looks of fury too. Miranda Goyle looked especially put out. He looked over his shoulder at Al, who gave him an encouraging smile and a nod toward Ravenclaw’s table. Scorpius walked towards the table, feeling as if he was moving through water. He fervently wished the floor would crack open and swallow him whole. He took a seat. No one at the table looked at him.

Then the Deputy Headmaster was calling out “Moore, Jessica” and a bouncy blond girl was taking a seat on the stool and the focus of the room gradually shifted back to the Sorting. Then “Oshiro, Midori” went to Hufflepuff, “Parkinson, Bella” went to Slytherin, and suddenly, “Potter, Albus” was being called to the front. 

The buzzing was back but this time it was excited. The room hummed with anticipation, all eyes on the latest Potter to come to Hogwarts. Al shuffled forward looking apprehensive. He caught Scorpius’s eye and shot him a quick smile. Over at the Gryffindor table, James Potter was looking smugly expectant. And why not? Whatever Al’s misgivings, both the Potters and the Weasleys had been in Gryffindor forever. Everyone knew that. 

Which was probably when the room fell silent once again when the hat shouted out, “Slytherin!”

There was a confused murmur, growing steadily louder with each passing second. James Potter looked like someone had punched him in the gut. Then a mighty roar came up from the Slytherin table. Al gave a nervous grin and, hopping off the stool, made his way over to his new house. He was practically swallowed up by housemates eager to greet him.

2.

Scorpius’s first few months at Hogwarts were both better and worse than he expected and strangely enough, Al Potter was the reason for both.

The rapport that had developed on the Hogwarts Express rapidly bloomed into a full-fledged friendship. Even though they weren’t in the same house, he and Al managed to spend most of their free time together. They sat together for meals and for the three classes they shared. After dinner, they were usually together in the library, Ravenclaw Tower, or in Al’s dorm room (contrary to his father’s expectations, Scorpius had received a rather frosty reception in the Slytherin common room), studying, playing Exploding Snap, or just sitting around and talking. Of course they weren’t together all the time – Al spent time with his brother and cousins and his other friends too – but they were together more often than not and Scorpius felt ridiculously grateful for Al’s friendship.

Al had been right about people looking at the two of them and seeing their fathers. Scorpius found it a relief to be in his company – Al was often the only person who saw Scorpius as something other than the son of a Death Eater. And, in turn, Scorpius was the only person who just treated Al like anybody else. They could relax around each other in a way they couldn’t around other people. In fact, Scorpius felt more like himself around Al than he did around anyone else he knew, even his father. With his father, he was always trying so hard not to upset him, not to make his life more difficult. With Al, he didn’t have to be so careful. Growing up in such a big extended family, Al had learned how to ignore people’s bad moods, how to let arguments roll off his back. Scorpius could have a right strop one day and know he would still be welcomed back the next. 

But most of all, they seemed to just _get_ each other. It was easy to be together. It wasn’t just liking the same things or both thinking Quidditch was stupid or anything so simple. It was something deeper, like somehow they were the same underneath. And if it could have been just the two of them, everything would have been perfect. Unfortunately for him, there were hundreds of other students to contend with.

Scorpius had guessed that most of his fellow students wouldn’t like him much and he was right. So far exactly four people had spoken to him in his house – the Prefect, Peter Marsh, two of his roommates Harry Munroe and Edward Weiss, and Miranda Goyle. Although really, Marsh hadn’t been talking to him so much as the group of first years and Miranda Goyle had only spoken to him long enough to tell him to “stay the hell away from me because it’s hard enough to get people to forget my uncle was a Death Eater without some Malfoy hanging off me.” His roommates had been slightly more civil with a “Which bed do you want?” from Munroe and a “Hurry up, I need to use the loo,” from Weiss.

In class he was nearly invisible. His teachers didn’t call on him and he tried his best not to draw attention to himself – he was always on time for all his classes, homework completed, readings done. He never spoke out of turn or caused trouble. Despite this, he had still received several detentions from Hooch for his ‘attitude’ and he was quite certain his DADA essay had been marked down by Professor Keller. In fact, the only professors he was sure treated him fairly were Professor Longbottom and his Head of House, Professor Hathaway. 

Outside of classes, Scorpius was anything but invisible. The elbowing and jostling he had experienced before the Sorting continued on a daily basis as he made his way down the halls. By the end of November had already been sent to the hospital wing twice – once when he sprained his wrist during a fall precipitated by a Trip Jinx and another time when someone slipped doxy droppings into his lunch. Though the nurse had treated him kindly and competently, it didn’t escape his notice that his injuries weren’t reported to his Head of House or to his father. In fact, no one ever said anything about them at all.

At first, Scorpius had assumed the negative attention was because he was a Malfoy. But as time went on, it became clear that was only part of the problem. The much bigger issue seemed to be his friendship with Al. 

Al was uniquely received at Hogwarts. His last name ensured he was well-liked, but no one seemed to know exactly what to make of him. The Gryffindors saw him as one of their own and felt some mistake had been made in the Sorting. Many of them blamed this on Scorpius.

“His whole family’s been in Gryffindor for generations and James says there’s no way he’s not one of us – he’s brave, tries to do the right thing, doesn’t shy away from a fight. But then don’t you know he spent the whole train ride with Scorpius Malfoy and suddenly the Sorting Hat’s naming him a Slytherin? It’s that Malfoy kid. He did something to him. There’s no way Al Potter shouldn’t have been in Gryffindor.”

This, of course, was nonsense, as anyone in Slytherin would tell you.

“Of course Al Potter is in Slytherin! Have you met the kid? Yes, he’s courageous, but he’s clever too. He doesn’t just go running off half-cocked like some idiot Gryffindor. The kid _thinks_. He knows how to be subtle. He might look like a lion at first glance, but trust me, he’s all snake. I’m telling you, Al knows how to work a plan. Those Gryffindors just don’t want to see it ‘cause they’re sore losers.”

Confusing matters even more was the fact that, by dint of his large family, Al had friends in all the houses and was often seen eating at different tables (usually dragging Scorpius along with him) and sitting with whomever he wanted in his classes. So even Ravenclaw and Hufflepuff felt like they had a bit of a claim on him. Al wasn’t stupid; he obviously knew much of his popularity had to do with his last name. But Scorpius was quite sure it was more than just his celebrity. Al had a friendly, easy-going nature that made people comfortable. People liked Al.

Which, of course, was part of the problem. Everyone liked Al which meant everyone wanted the best for Al and, by clear consensus, Scorpius was definitely not the best. The Gryffindors weren’t the only ones to suspect Scorpius had ‘done something’ to Al. Rumours were constantly circulating about their friendship – that Scorpius was blackmailing Al into being his friend, that he had him under Imperius, that he was slipping a potion into his food. Scorpius received notes on a daily basis, threatening him with embarrassment, sabotage, or harm if he continued in his friendship with Al. 

He'd shown the first few to Al, who had laughed. “It’s just people being idiots. Don’t worry about it. Just ignore it and it will go away. Trust me.”

But it didn’t go away. 

It was when Scorpius landed in the hospital wing for the first time that Al swung into action and Scorpius suddenly understood why his friend had been sorted into Slytherin. It soon became clear that Al was good at revenge, serving it hot or cold. He planned elaborate pranks against Scorpius’s attackers, finding their humiliation a fitting retribution for his friend’s pain, always making sure it was clear who had been behind it and why. And while this strategy worked in keeping those particular students away from him, amongst most of the other students, it furthered suspicion that Scorpius was corrupting Al, making him act out of character. Things got worse, rather than better. 

After Scorpius ended up in the hospital the second time, Al agreed not to take revenge, seeing that it wasn’t the most effective strategy. He opted instead to stay with Scorpius all the time, once even going so far as to sleep with him in the Ravenclaw dorms. Which of course did nothing to quiet the rumour mill, but Al wasn’t concerned about that. 

“People can say whatever they want. I only care about keeping you safe.” 

Scorpius couldn’t help feeling there was something about the situation that wasn’t fair to Al, but at the same time, he couldn’t bring himself to object. 

There was a rather obvious solution to the situation, of course: Scorpius could simply stop being friends with Al. The other students would still give him a hard time, but he was certain the violence was more due to their outrage that a Malfoy had befriended and corrupted a Potter than anything. He strongly suspected that, were he to stop hanging around Al, he would be allowed to fade into the background, ignored instead of targeted.

But it wasn’t an option, not really. Al was his friend, his first real friend. And even though he didn’t have anything to compare to, he was pretty sure friends like Al didn’t come along every day.

3.

Scorpius was floating, hovering somewhere between sleep and wakefulness, his body a far-away anchor, his thoughts swirling and bobbing on the waves of consciousness.

Distant voices crept about the edges of his awareness, growing louder as he focused his attention on them.

“… here, Potter? I wouldn’t have thought a Malfoy taking a fall down the stairs would warrant the attention of the Ministry’s Head Auror?”

Ah, his father was here.

“The Headmistress called me and Ginny in about Al. He attacked some sixth years. Nearly got himself expelled.”

Someone else was in the room. Talking about Al. He had a feeling he should know who this was but his mind wasn’t working right. It was too hard to gather his drifting thoughts and concentrate.

“I see. And so what? You just thought you’d stop by the hospital wing while you were here, for old times’ sake?”

Hospital wing? Who was in the hospital wing? Had something happened to Al?

“Al asked me to come, find out what’s going on. He says no one will let him see Scorpius. You’ve had them close the hospital wing to his friends?”

“Friends? You mean like the ones who did this to him?” 

Even in his confused state, Scorpius could hear the anger in his father’s voice. Whatever had happened, it must have been bad.

“We don’t know anything for sure. Let’s just wait until Scorpius wakes up, hear what he has to tell us before jumping to any conclusions.”

“Right. Let’s just wait patiently and give everyone the benefit of the doubt. Because that’s exactly what you’d be doing if it was one of your children.”

“I know it’s hard not to think the worst, Malfoy, but they’re just kids. They wouldn’t –

“Wouldn’t what? Wouldn’t push the son of a Death Eater off the edge of a moving staircase? Just like you wouldn’t have slashed your fellow student open in the girls’ bathroom? Or like the Weasley twins wouldn’t have shoved someone in a cupboard and not cared when he failed to reappear for two months? Spare me, Potter. I know full well what Hogwarts students are capable of, kids or not.”

“Malfoy, I’m sorry.” The man’s voice was gentle now. “Of course it’s a possibility. An ugly one. It’s hard to think about.” 

Scorpius had never heard anyone talk to his father that way – nicely, _normally_. Whoever it was, he must not know he’s talking to Draco Malfoy. But then he just called him Malfoy, so he had to know. But if he knew, then he wouldn’t be so nice…. The thoughts tangled in his head, making no sense.

“Yes, well, Scorpius has had an ugly life. For fuck’s sake, Potter! He fell fifty feet! If Flitwick hadn’t just happened to be there, he would have –” His father broke off suddenly and there was a long pause. “He’s my son, the best part of me and I nearly lost him. He nearly…”

Scorpius didn’t like the sound of his father’s voice as he said this, ragged and strained as though the words were bits of glass, cutting his throat on the way out. If only he could move his arms, he could reach out to his father, hug him, tell him it would be all right. _I’m okay, Dad. I’m okay._

“But he didn’t.” Ah, the nice man was saying it for him so it was all right. Hopefully, he was hugging him too. “He didn’t, Malfoy. He’s okay.”

His father was saying something else now in that soft, broken voice but Scorpius was floating away again, the tide washing out, carrying him back to sleep.

***

He couldn’t say how much time had passed when he woke next. This time, he felt much more alert, much less confused. He was able to open his eyes.

It took a moment for him to realise he was in the hospital wing. What was he doing here?

He’d been hurt, obviously. He could tell by the way his body ached and his head throbbed. He struggled to remember. There’d been a scuffle. Of course there had been. There always was these days. He remembered shouting, hands pushing against his chest, his shoulder. Then why did his back hurt so much? His neck? And why couldn’t he feel his left arm?

He remembered his feet slipping, the feeling of air rushing by much too fast, his stomach dropping… He’d fallen. He’d fallen a long, long way down.

The light in the room was bright and clear. Mid-morning if he had to judge. It had been late afternoon when he’d fallen. He’d been asleep all night then. 

He shifted against his pillow and the tiny movement brought someone flying to his bedside. There was the scraping of a chair pulled close, two hands grabbing his right one and then he was looking into green, green eyes, like fields of grass glowing in the sunlight, eyes he’d know anywhere…

Except not. These eyes held shadows like his father’s and were framed by dark glasses. 

His eyes traveled up, found the lightning bolt scar. Al’s dad. Harry Potter.

“Scorpius?” Mr Potter’s voice was soft but urgent. “You’re awake? Can you hear me? Squeeze my hand if you can hear me.”

Scorpius tried to squeeze his hand but the best he could manage was a slight wriggling of his fingers. He just felt so weak. He tried his voice instead. Nothing came out. He tried again.

“Where’s m’dad?” he whispered, his voice little more than a dry croak.

Mr Potter held a glass of water to his lips. Scorpius sipped gratefully. “He’s gone to St. Mungo’s to arrange for your transfer. He’ll be back soon.”

“S’Mungo’s?”

“Yes, you need a bit of an extra treatment for your arm but you’re going to be fine, Scorpius, don’t worry. It will only take a day or two at most and then you’ll be good as new. Do you remember anything about how you got here?”

He had fallen, he remembered that much. Snatches of a conversation he’d heard earlier came back to him. “Fell down some stairs?”

“That’s right. You took a fall off one of the moving staircases. You fell several floors but you’re going to be all right.”

Memories clicked back into place. “Dad thinks someone pushed me.”

“Yes, he does.” Mr Potter’s eyes searched his. “Is he right?”

Scorpius hesitated. If he admitted it was a deliberate attack, his father wouldn’t think twice about pulling him out of Hogwarts, away from Al… “I can’t really remember much about right before. I remember breakfast with Al, going to Herbology. After that, it’s all kind of fuzzy.”

Mr Potter frowned at that and placed a hand against Scorpius’s forehead, as though he could feel for memory loss the way one would feel for a fever. Even though it was a silly thing for Mr Potter to do – he could just imagine his father laughing at him for it – Scorpius rather liked it. Somehow, it made him feel safe. “You don’t remember anything at all?”

“Bits and pieces. Nothing clear.”

“Has anything like this ever happened before?”

“No, not like this.”

Bugger. He shouldn’t have said that. 

“But things have happened?”

Scorpius wasn’t sure what to say. He knew Al’s dad was an Auror. If he talked too much, the whole thing could end up in some sort of investigation and Scorpius doubted very much that anything good could come out of that. So he just shrugged – trying not to panic when his left shoulder didn’t move – and said nothing.

Mr Potter’s frown deepened but thankfully he didn’t press the issue. “Well, maybe that’s something we can talk about when your father gets back.”

“Where’s Al?”

“He’s in class.”

“In class?” Scorpius’s brow wrinkled in confusion. “On a Saturday?”

Mr Potter’s face softened and his hands closed around Scorpius’s again. They felt rough, the skin calloused, but his touch was gentle. “It’s Monday morning. You’ve been unconscious for the better part of three days.”

“Three days?”

Mr Potter nodded. “It was a very serious fall you took, Scorpius.”

Scorpius could hear the meaning behind the words, what Mr Potter was really saying: _You could have died, Scorpius_. He let his gaze drift towards the window. He didn’t know what to think.

Mr Potter patted his hand and then pushed his chair back to stand.

“You’re not going, are you?” asked Scorpius, alarmed at the prospect of being alone.

“No, I’m not going. I’m just going to let Madam Pomfrey know you’re awake. I imagine she’ll be cross with me that I didn’t get her the second you opened your eyes. And then I have to go get Al out of class – I promised I’d sneak him in for a visit once you woke up. It was the only way I could convince him to go to class at all – I think he was determined to wear a rut right through the floorboards, pacing back and forth in the hall out there, hoping to catch a glimpse of you.”

He winked at Scorpius and started to walk away. 

“Mr Potter?”

Al’s dad turned back to him. “Yes, Scorpius?”

“Don’t let my dad do anything stupid, okay?”

Mr Potter looked at him for a moment as though not sure what to make of him. Then he smiled and nodded. Scorpius watched him walk to Pomfrey’s office and then closed his eyes. He needed to work out what he was going to tell them about what had happened, but right now getting a bit more sleep seemed like a much more pressing issue.

***

Three weeks later, Scorpius returned to Hogwarts. His father hadn’t wanted him to, still suspicious about his fall, but Scorpius had insisted it was an accident, letting nothing in his words or behaviour suggest otherwise, until his father finally relented.

Al was doing detention when Scorpius arrived at the castle, as he would be for the next six weeks. Scorpius found him in the trophy room, polishing awards. Scorpius sat down beside him, picked up a rag and a trophy, and set to work. Al said nothing, but a small grin pulled at his lips, and he bumped Scorpius with his shoulder. Scorpius blushed and Al’s grin gave way to a wide smile.

Neither one of them said anything about what had happened, to each other or to anyone else, but Scorpius snuck into Al’s detention every night until they were done and Al smiled at his arrival, each and every time.

4.

June 26, 2018.

Al,

Okay, so I’ve been home less than thirty-six hours and I can already tell this is going to be the worst summer of my life. 

So my dad planned this big welcome home dinner for me, to celebrate the end of my first year and all. I would never tell him this, but I was actually kind of looking forward to it. But then my grandmother owled to say she was too sick to come and my Aunt Daphne got called away to New York on business. And then Teddy Floo’s in for five minutes just to say he’s not coming because he’s going to the Weasleys to help his girlfriend celebrate _her_ homecoming! So in the end, it was just me and my parents and you know they’re getting along as well as ever. I spent two hours sitting in the formal dining room, my mum and dad at opposite ends of the table not speaking, not even looking at each other. I swear, if it wasn’t for the fact they had to occasionally give instructions to the house elves, no one would have said anything at all. 

Have you asked your parents about coming for a visit yet? I haven’t asked mine. I’m waiting for them to warm up a little first. Merlin, I hope they say yes. Somehow I have a feeling it’s going to be a long summer. But, assuming our parents agree of course, at least I’ll get to spend a couple of weeks with you and get away from here. And then if you spend a couple weeks here, they’ll have to be on their best behaviour so at least there won’t be any fighting. I can’t promise my dad won’t go on lengthy rants about why he hates your father though. That’s a favourite topic for him. Some of them are actually quite entertaining. If you can ignore the topic of focus, you might enjoy his creative use of metaphor.

Hope your homecoming was more pleasant than mine.

Scorpius

***

July 17, 2018.

Al,

So I saw a picture of your family in the paper today and finally realised why you haven’t been responding to any of my letters – you’ve been in Spain since school let out! You know, you could have told me you were going away, you git. Instead I’ve been sitting here like an arse the last three weeks, wondering why you weren’t writing back. Anyway, if the front page of the _Prophet_ is anything to go by, you seem to be back safe and sound. Though you might want to talk to your little sister. That skirt seemed awfully short for a ten year old! Oh, and tell James he looks like a prat with his hair like that. 

Anyway, you won’t believe it but my dad actually agreed to you coming for a visit. I believe his exact words were, “He can stay, but only if I don’t have to make any small-talk with the speccy, disfigured git he calls his father when he drops him off.” And – are you sitting down? – he didn’t even sneer when he said it! I swear, I don’t know what happened between our fathers when I was in the hospital in February but I think my dad is actually thawing a bit where yours is concerned. I know – who would have thought? I don’t suppose you’ve seen any flobberworms flying recently? Or heard that hell has frozen over?

So ask your parents and get back to me. It’s excruciating here – for some completely unknown reason my mother is not summering in Switzerland this year and I am going completely mental from her constant presence. I could use some company. 

Scorpius

***

August 3, 2018.

Al,

Things here have gone from bad to worse. Apparently the reason my mother has stayed home this summer is because my father has asked her for a divorce. And no, before you ask, she’s not staying to fight for her marriage. She’s staying to fight for my father’s money. It seems her lawyers advised her to stick close to home until they’ve worked out all the details and they’ve told her, unless she’s willing to give it up in the settlement, under no circumstances should she leave our house. Which makes home a very fun place, I don’t mind telling you. 

Strangely enough, the ‘details’ she and her lawyers are sorting out don’t seem to involve any kind of joint custody arrangement for me. She’s making claims on the furniture, properties, jewellery, and family heirlooms, but me? Apparently, she’s happy for my father to keep me. Well, fuck her. I want to stay with my dad anyway.

Other than that, there’s not much to tell. Though really, it’s scandal enough all on its own. I should probably be grateful there’s not much else to tell. Oh, except I was in the paper again a couple of days ago. Maybe you saw it. My dad and I were on our way to Gringotts when this woman tripped right in front of us. The bag she was carrying flew right at me, nearly hit me in the face. Anyway, I caught the bag but she fell. And don’t you know some photographer was there (probably tailing us, just waiting for my dad to do something ‘Dark’) to capture the whole thing. Only the article says I pushed her over and nicked her bag and _of course_ the angle of the photograph makes it look like that too – she’s half-fallen over and I’ve got this bag clutched to my chest. I suppose the part where my dad helped her to her feet and I handed her things back to her didn’t make for very interesting news. 

Anyway, write back would you? I don’t know what’s going on with you but this not hearing from you is starting to get irritating. I feel a bit like I’m writing letters to myself.

Scorpius

***

August 12, 2018

Al,

So this is the last letter I’m going to send you this summer. I’m not sure why you’re not responding to my letters but I’m starting to feel like an idiot, writing to you and you not writing back. I’m guessing it’s not because you’re pissed off with me – I don’t believe you’re capable of keeping your silence when you’re angry – so I’m assuming something else is going on. Hopefully you can tell me about it when we see each other September 1st.

Whatever it is, I hope you’re okay.

Wanker.

Scorpius.

P.S. Saw your family in the paper again. Seriously, James doesn’t actually think his hair looks good like that, does he?


	2. Chapter 2

Seventh Year

5.

“All right class, I’ll see you again on Monday. Scorpius, can you stay a minute, please?”

Scorpius looked up in surprise. Professor Hathaway smiled at him. He wasn’t in trouble then. What could she want?

He waited until the crush of students leaving the room had passed and then made his way to her desk.

“Scorpius,” she said warmly. “We haven’t really had a chance to talk since school started. How has the first week back been for you?”

“Just fine, Professor,” Scorpius answered. 

“Did you have a nice summer?”

He struggled not to roll his eyes in impatience. He liked Professor Hathaway well enough but honestly, had she really held him back just to chit-chat? “Nice enough, I suppose. And yours?”

“Very pleasant, very pleasant. Took the family on an excursion to the Canadian Rockies. My youngest is very interested in their Sasquatch legends. No actual sightings, of course, but we did find some very promising tracks. We made moulds. My husband and son are analysing them as we speak, convinced it’s just the beginning of something big.”

 _Yeah, a big load of shit_ , Scorpius thought but he smiled politely. He never really understood the appeal of chasing after Muggles’ mythical creatures.

“Anyway, enough pleasantries. I wanted to talk to you because I’ve had a request for a tutor and I thought of you immediately. Now I know we’ve discussed the possibility of you tutoring in the past and you’ve not been interested but I think perhaps you should reconsider. I’m advising you as your Head of House now, Scorpius. You have exceptional marks but your extracurricular involvement is lacking. Usually, I wouldn’t even mention it but in your particular situation, it might not hurt for you to appear more involved with your fellow students.” 

He knew what went unsaid. For other students, it was fine to pull in top marks, to hell with extracurriculars. But people would be looking for signs of deviancy in a Malfoy and it would be all too easy to parlay his lack of extracurricular activities into pathological antisocial tendencies. 

“The student in question is a seventh year as well,” Professor Hathaway continued, “requesting some help with Potions. I know Potions is a strength for you. Perhaps you can treat his tutorials like revision for yourself, fell two gnomes with one jarvey, as the saying goes.”

Scorpius had to admit the idea had merit. They might even be able to get permission to use the lab and some extra practical experience would be invaluable going into the exams. Plus, it would be good way to get involved in school activities without actually having to, well, get involved in school activities. There’d be no need to worry about making awkward conversation, they’d be studying. Even if this person detested him on sight for being a Malfoy, he’d still have to treat Scorpius decently if he wanted help. And it wasn’t as though there were that many other students to choose from – the NEWT Potions class was pretty small.

Which brought up the question, “So who’s the student in need of tutoring, Professor?”

“Albus Potter,” she answered and Scorpius felt his stomach drop clear to the floor. “I believe you two know each other, yes?”

“Yeah, we do,” Scorpius said. “But I don’t know if it’s such a good idea –”

“Oh, I think it will work out fine. I’ve known you both a long time, Scorpius. I’m certain you can find a way to work together. This will benefit you both. Just think of it that way.”

“Maybe…”

“Well, then, I’ll leave it to you to schedule your first meeting together?”

“Sure. I mean, yes, Professor. I’ll do that.”

“Excellent.”

With a nod, Scorpius headed towards the door.

“Oh, and Scorpius?”

He stopped and turned. “Yes, Professor?”

“I hope you have a good year.”

 _Not fucking likely_ , Scorpius thought bitterly. “Thanks, Professor Hathaway.”

***

_Scorp,_

_Thanks so much for doing this – you’re a real life saver!  
See you in the library at 7:00. _

_Al_

Scorpius reread the note for what felt like the thousandth time, his eyes lingering on the familiar scratchy handwriting. Five years on and Al’s handwriting was still barely legible. How their professors read his essays, he had no idea…

Scorpius had put off contacting Al for several days as he attempted to think of some way out of the situation. Working with Al was sure to be a disaster. It had been five years since they had spoken to each other and their last words had not been good ones. In fact, he was quite certain the last thing he said to Al was, “If that’s the way you want it, fine, you arrogant, miserable bastard.” To which Al had responded, “For fuck’s sake, Scorp, enough with the dramatics. Bloody hell, maybe the things they say about Malfoys are true after all.” Scorpius had stalked off then and that had been the end of it. And while his desire to punch Al in the face had faded over the years, he had a feeling it might resurface were they to spend significant amounts of time together.

Of course, he could just refuse to do it – there was no law saying he had to tutor Al – but Professor Hathaway had been right about how his lack of involvement with the student body was likely to be misconstrued by those predisposed to disliking him. And while he supposed he could turn Al down but offer to tutor someone else, the truth was he doubted there were many students who would be willing to have him for a tutor. Or, really, any other students at all. 

So, with no reasonable excuses at his disposal other than his concern about enacting bodily harm on Slytherin’s favourite son, he had sent a note to Al, suggesting they meet Thursday evening in the library. He had been disgusted to find he felt nervous and fluttery as he wrote it – as if Al or his reaction to the thought of working together should mean anything to him! He’d been even more disgusted when the feeling stayed with him, spiking alarmingly when Al’s response floated over to him in class the next day. Despite himself, his eyes had sought out Al after he read it. Al had been looking at him, waiting for a response, and gave him a small wave when he saw Scorpius look over. 

He hadn’t returned the wave, instead nodding stiffly and looking away.

And now it was Thursday and he was on his way to the library and he was quite sure that saying yes to this whole thing was the worst idea he’d ever had. Albus fucking Potter. What had he been _thinking_?

He claimed his favourite table in the far corner of the library where the chattering of the other students was unlikely to bother him. In first year, he never would have sat at this table – sitting in a secluded corner out of view of the librarian was just asking for trouble. But it had been many years since he had been bullied. For the most part, his fellow students seemed happy to ignore him and he returned the favour. He half-hoped Al wouldn’t find him, hidden away as he was. Then he could tell Professor Hathaway he had tried but it hadn’t worked out, that Al just hadn’t been interested. 

Alas, he was not that lucky.

Al appeared around the corner of the nearest shelf. He stopped in front of the table, shuffling a little. “Hey Scorpius. Hope I’m not late. Took me a minute to find you back here.”

Scorpius felt his mouth go dry and his palms were suddenly clammy. This was so _stupid_ … “Yes well, ever the intrepid little Potter, you found me.”

Al gave a small, puzzled frown. Scorpius let his gaze drift towards the shelves, a bored expression on his face. 

“It’s a good spot you’ve picked,” Al said after a minute. “I usually sit over by the east windows. I like the light but it’s always too noisy to actually get any work done.”

“So you’ve got your priorities straight then,” Scorpius said, all too aware of the nasty tone in his voice. “Explains why you’re the one in need of tutoring.”

He couldn’t help himself. Being around Al was putting him on edge.

“Jesus, Scorp. Who pissed in your pumpkin juice? I’m just making conversation.”

“Oh, have I been rude? I’m sorry, I didn’t realise tutoring required us to engage in inane chit-chat. Silly me, I thought it was about _studying_.”

He felt a dull satisfaction when he saw Al’s jaw tighten. “Fine, fine. I get the point.”

Wordlessly, Al pulled off his rucksack and slid into the seat beside Scorpius. He pulled out several textbooks, some parchment, ink and quills. He took his time arranging things neatly on the table top. “All right, Professor Malfoy,” he said once he had it all set up. “Bestow your wisdom upon me.”

Then he turned and gave Scorpius an expectant look.

Scorpius felt his stomach twist. It had been many years since he had been in such close proximity to Al. He’d forgotten about his eyes, how many shades of green they held. 

He faked a cough to have an excuse to turn away for a moment. Bloody Al. He was not going to let the git get to him that easily. Once he’d composed himself, he turned back and pulled a piece of parchment out from his own pile of notes.

“Here’s a list of the Potions most likely to be on the NEWTs, as well as a basic outline of the theory you’ll be expected to understand. Presumably you are less than competent at most, if not all of these. Take this list and give each a rating out of ten, indicating how confident you are in your knowledge of that potion or aspect of theory. You can give it back to me tomorrow in Charms.”

He started to gather up his things, a clear signal of dismissal to any student. 

Al gaped at him. “That’s it? You’ve given me a bloody list to read?”

“No, not to read. To rate. Hmm, perhaps this is why you’re in need of remedial lessons. You know, Potter, good listening skills will take you far in life.”

“Seriously. This is all we’re doing tonight?”

“What are you so put out about? This is how we start. It makes no sense to go ahead without a study plan. This list will give me an idea of your strengths and weaknesses. Then I can make a timetable for us accordingly. I’m sorry if my orderly approach to our work together isn’t exciting enough for you.” Scorpius packed the last of his things into his bag. “I’ll tell you what. If you want, you can do it in the Forbidden Forest. If you want to make it a real adventure, hang a pork chop around your neck and leave your wand behind.”

Al looked at him incredulously a moment longer and then looked down at the list in his hand. “Yeah, I’ll do that.” 

Scorpius pushed away from the table. “I’m sure you’ll have a lovely time,” he said and then left without looking back.

He hadn’t even cleared the library doors when he felt the stinging behind his eyes. He ducked into the nearest bathroom. He quickly closed himself into a cubicle and leaned his forehead against the door. The wood felt cool against his skin. He couldn’t believe he was already reduced to this, hiding in the loo, trying to convince himself he didn’t feel like crying. It had only been five minutes together!

“Fucking Al,” he whispered, half-heartedly driving his fist into the door.

He took several deep breaths and waited for the stinging sensation to pass.

6.

The first few weeks of tutoring Al were exactly as Scorpius had expected – awkward. 

Al was trying to be friendly but it wasn’t going well for him, Scorpius made sure of that. Whenever Al spoke about anything remotely off-topic, Scorpius gave him withering glances, snorted derisively and shot out peevish remarks until Al gave up the attempt at conversation. He wasn’t doing it on purpose, but whenever he was around the Slytherin, Scorpius felt defensive and angry. Each time they met, he’d tell himself he wasn’t going to let Al get to him, he was just going to focus on the work. But then Al would show up, talking to him as if they were friends, as if it were the most normal thing in the world and something in Scorpius would mutiny. And really, it wasn’t as though Scorpius’s spitefulness was for no reason and they both knew it. After all, Al _had_ ditched Scorpius after first year without so much as a word of explanation. 

They’d sat together, he and Al, taking the Hogwarts Express back to London, their first year done. They been alone in the compartment, just the two of them, talking about all the things they were going to do that summer. Al was going to show him the caves near his family’s summer cottage and Scorpius was going to show Al the hedge maze in behind his house. They’d laughed and eaten Chocolate Frogs and planned pranks to play on James when Scorpius was at the Potters. Al had hugged him when they said good-bye, long and tight, the way Al always hugged him. He had smiled at Scorpius the way he had smiled at him a thousand times before. And then he had disappeared into the crowd and out of Scorpius’s life.

It had taken him a while to work it out, of course. Being the idiot he was, Scorpius had assumed there was a good excuse for Al’s silence over the summer. But, as Al informed him once they got back to school, there wasn’t. He’d just lost interest in their friendship, moved on to other things, other people. 

“It’s not that big a deal. People grow apart, Scorpius,” he’d said, his voice hatefully calm. “Not every friend is forever. Doesn’t mean it wasn’t fun hanging out with you last year, it was. But, I don’t know, this summer I spent a lot of time with James and his friends and Nate Murray’s family was in the villa next to ours in Spain and, you know.” He shrugged, as if the movement of his shoulders could explain it all, explain why Scorpius suddenly wasn’t good enough, suddenly wasn’t welcome. 

They had spoken several times after that, the conversation always heated, Scorpius furious in the instant, Al slowly losing his patience, both of them yelling by the end of it. Al was always the one who declared it wasn’t worth it, walking away from the argument and away from Scorpius again and again.

So if things were strained between them, Al had no one to blame by himself. Scorpius refused to feel guilty about his behaviour. If Al was uncomfortable, good. He should be.

The truth of the matter, though, was that Scorpius was uncomfortable too. In fact, they had only met twice in the last three weeks. Scorpius was unable to bring himself to set a regular schedule with Al; for some reason, he needed to leave it open-ended, to have an easy way out. An easy way out which he suddenly lost when Professor Chen gave them permission to use the Potions lab twice a week. Chen scheduled them in for Wednesday and Fridays evenings, no substitutions, and made it clear that if the room wasn’t being used, he could find other students who would be only too happy to take their place.

Scorpius had been thrilled, certain that Al would only want to meet once a week, leaving him free to practice for the NEWTs by himself the other night. In fact, he was so convinced of this, he didn’t understand at first when Al immediately agreed to the twice a week schedule.

“That’s brilliant, Scorpius,” he’d said enthusiastically. “That will really help. But I wonder if we shouldn’t meet Mondays as well. You know, in the library. We could review theory and plan out the week’s potions. That way we wouldn’t have to waste lab time on that stuff. We could use the lab time strictly for practical lessons. What do you think?”

Scorpius had waved this off, barely realising what he was agreeing to, too focused on the fact that Al wanted both lab nights. “Yes, yes, fine, we’ll meet on Mondays, but are you sure you want to meet on Fridays? Isn’t Friday night a big party night down in Slytherin?”

It was a fairly transparent ploy but dammit, he needed at least one night in the lab for himself!

But Al had just shrugged. “Yeah, it is but I’ve had my fill of Slytherin parties. This is much more important, studying with you. I really need to get at least an E on my Potions NEWT and I’d prefer an O. Besides, there’s always Saturday night for parties.”

And so they agreed to meet in the lab that Wednesday for their first practical lesson. Looking back on it later, Scorpius would identify that as the point that everything took a turn for the worse.

***

They never should have left the library, that much was clear. There were people in the library, lots of people. Sure, he and Al had been holed away in the back corner but they weren’t even remotely alone. People had constantly interrupted them, coming to say hi to Al, floating notes over. Of course, it had annoyed Scorpius immensely at the time. He had enjoyed his invisibility the last few years. While he no longer feared being bullied – he knew too many hexes and was far too quick with his wand to be anyone’s easy prey these days – he certainly didn’t enjoy being caught in the spotlight that followed Al. So he’d been looking forward to working in the lab, getting away from all the people for a change.

What he hadn’t considered was what it would be like to be alone, really alone, with Al. It wasn’t until Al arrived in the lab Wednesday evening, closing the door behind him, that Scorpius found himself suddenly aware that it had been more than five years since they’d been alone in a room together. Not to mention that the last time they’d been alone in a room together, Scorpius had wanted nothing more than to smash his fist through Al’s teeth. Judging from Al’s sudden awkwardness, he guessed Al was remembering something similar. For a moment, they both just looked at each other, neither saying anything. The air in the room seemed to grow thick and stale. Scorpius wished there were a window to open.

Then Al was moving towards him, swinging his bag off his shoulder and taking a seat beside him. Scorpius was perturbed to notice that Al sat closer than was strictly necessary. He had done this in the library, too. Al would arrive, sit down beside him and shuffle his chair a bit closer to Scorpius’s. Scorpius could only assume it was meant to be some sort of intimidation tactic, to knock him off balance him somehow. And so, of course, he refused to let it, never commenting on the intrusion into his personal space. He had hoped Al wouldn’t continue this ridiculous behaviour once they moved to the Potions lab but it seemed luck wasn’t on his side. If anything, Al sat closer still.

And that’s when the problems started. Because in the library, this closeness had been irritating, a bit of an affront even, as if Al grossly underestimated Scorpius’s fortitude, assuming he would be so easily flustered. But here in the Potions lab, alone, the effect was altogether different.

For one thing, Al smelled good. Really good. He had that warm, spicy boy-smell that made Scorpius want to bury his nose into the curve of Al’s neck and breathe deep. In the library, Al had been far enough away that he hadn’t noticed, or perhaps the stink of musty old books had covered it. Here though, the scent reached him just fine, curled into him sensuously, making his blood run just a bit faster. For another, Al looked good. He had changed out of his robes, come to the study session in a pair of trousers that hugged his arse perfectly and a fitted grey jumper so soft-looking it just begged to be touched. Scorpius’s fingers were itching at the thought of it.

It wasn’t any kind of shocking revelation that Al looked good. Al was good-looking. Everyone knew this. He had been good-looking six years ago when they’d first met and he was good-looking now. But it had been a long, long time since they had sat together, side by side, only a foot or two between them, and a lot had changed since then. Then, they had both been children, scrawny and silly and more concerned with pranks than sex. Now, well, now they had both grown up and filled out and if the rumours were true then Al swung both ways and as for Scorpius, he had known he preferred men for a long time.

Not that anyone else knew, mind you, at least not anyone who went to this school. It might be okay for Al Potter to bend the occasional boy over his desk but he doubted very much the wizarding world would be so accepting of a gay Malfoy. But his secret was going to be out if he didn’t get himself under control and fast. Because right now he couldn’t seem to stop looking at the tender curve of Al’s lips, the way his dark hair curled against the back of his neck, his strong, wide hands with their long fingers. He had trouble not staring at the golden skin of Al’s throat, the lean muscles of his forearms, exposed when he pushed his sleeves up. 

Scorpius shook himself. No matter what he smelled like, this was still Al Potter, complete bastard, and Scorpius was not going to let him get under his skin _that_ easily. Determined to ignore his reaction to Al’s presence, which, really, was completely abhorrent, Scorpius pulled out the study plan he had made and tapped it importantly. “So, I thought we could start by reviewing your preparation techniques. I know it seems basic but the examiners will be looking at it and I know more than one person who fancies himself a Potions genius but can’t cut a simple dandelion stem without mangling it.”

Al looked at him for a second in disbelief and then his eyes narrowed. “No.”

“No?” Scorpius repeated blankly. “What do you mean? You think they won’t be looking for that? They will, my father told me so and he’s very accomplished at Potions.”

Al just shook his head. “I agree that it’s important but I’m not going to sit here and chop things up while you criticise my technique. I’m not an idiot, Scorp. I asked you to help me because I need to get at least an E on my NEWT, preferably an O. I’m a good student. I know a lot about Potions already. You don’t have to treat me like I’m some idiot first year. If you see me doing something wrong, we’ll deal with it then but until that happens, let’s work on some actual potions.”

It was like a slap in the face and Scorpius felt anger rushing up. Fucking Al.

“Fine. Let’s start with the primary precursor to the Blood-Replenishing Potion,” he said, purposefully picking one of the more challenging potions from their study plan.

“Fine. I’ll get the ingredients.”

“Don’t you want the list?”

“I don’t need it, thanks.”

And he didn’t. Much to Scorpius’s surprise, he came back with all of the ingredients they needed to brew the potion. Without a word, he pulled out a knife and a mortar and pestle and started to work. Scorpius watched, unsure whether to be pissed off or impressed. 

Al paused in his chopping to glare at him. “Are you going to help or am I going to prepare everything by myself?”

Scorpius sneered but picked up a rose and started stripping petals from the head nonetheless.

They worked in silence, the tension thick between them. Scorpius felt wound-up and agitated, hyper-aware of every movement Al made – how he shifted his weight in his seat, bringing his right hip closer to Scorpius’s left thigh, how his hand passed within an inch of Scorpius’s when Al reached for the pestle, how his tongue flicked out twice to wet his lips, how he scratched at his neck with the blunt side of his knife. 

He could tell Al was feeling on edge as well, he could read it in the tightness of his jaw, the set of his shoulders. He could see Al watching him out of the corner of his eye, either not knowing or not caring that Scorpius saw him doing it. He seemed to alternate between taking extra care to keep out of Scorpius’s way and blatantly making his motions large and careless, as though refusing to adjust his movements to take into account Scorpius’s presence. 

It was maddening, Al’s arm passing over his so close he could feel the heat of his skin, Al’s breath a warm puff against Scorpius’s neck as Al reached across him to get the glass stirring rod. Scorpius was angry and aroused and that humiliating stinging sensation behind his eyes was back. When the inevitable finally happened and their hands accidentally touched, Scorpius felt it jolt through him like a shock, intense and painful, and he hated it.

7.

Though he had seriously debated just forgetting the whole thing, Friday night found Scorpius once again in the lab. After the fiasco that was the previous session, Scorpius had decided to change his strategy where Al was concerned. Blind antagonism clearly wasn’t his friend – arguing led to agitation and when he was worked up about one thing, it was far too easy to get worked up about another. No, the best plan was to aim for a kind of benign working relationship – a nice, peaceable, bland tutor-tutee arrangement. And if he still quietly hated Al on the inside, well, that was as it should be.

With that in mind, when Al arrived, Scorpius put forth the suggestion that they rework the study plan together. They spent several hours reviewing what Al already knew and what he was hoping to improve on, and determining the most effective way to cover the material. As it turned out, Al was no slouch at Potions. He had a solid grasp of the major underlying theoretical concepts and an excellent working knowledge of most of the main potions covered in class. Which meant they were free to focus on the finer points of theory and the subtler aspects of brewing – the kind of things that would make a difference between an E and an O. 

So they spent the next month practicing the more complex potions, perfecting Al’s technique. They experimented with different interactions and substitutions, explored how growing conditions affected the plants harvested for ingredients, how geography affected the animals, how the positions of the planets affected potency of a particular mixture, how the method of preparation could augment or attenuate effect. It turned out that Al had a side interest in speculative Potions theory, things like hybrid plants and extinct species, introducing Scorpius to a whole aspect of the field he had never considered before. 

Almost against his will, Scorpius found himself enjoying their study sessions. Al’s questions tested the limits of his own knowledge, presenting him with the sort of intellectual challenge he loved. More than once they had abandoned the lab and gone to the library in search of answers to some puzzle, trying to pin down the slippery subtleties of a particular bit of theory. Scorpius had never had the opportunity to engage in this kind of intellectual play with another person before, questioning and exploring together, feeding off each other’s ideas and curiosity. The Ravenclaw in him thrilled to it.

It was also making it easier for him to be around Al. Absorbed in their discussions, he was less likely to remember all the reasons he had for disliking Al. He could focus on Potions instead of their messy and painful history together. He never really forgot about it – their friendship ending had been one of the low points of his life, after all – but he was able to push his anger to the background for longer and longer periods of time. Sometimes an entire hour would go by without him saying anything spiteful at all. 

Of course, the attraction was still there but Scorpius was learning to ignore it. Al was out of the question for a thousand reasons and treating that as a given made it easier to overlook the slow, heated feeling that uncurled in his belly every time the Slytherin walked into the room. It was just a side effect, an unwanted physical reaction. It didn’t have to mean anything and he wasn’t going to let it mean anything. Al could come in looking as shaggable as was humanly possible, he could put his hand on Scorpius’s shoulder or forearm all he wanted, it didn’t change anything. Because at the end of the day, he was still Al Potter and Scorpius didn’t trust him any farther than he could throw a sack of kneazles. 

It wasn’t friendship they shared. It was studying. And so Scorpius made sure that’s what they did. They didn’t stop for snacks, they didn’t chat outside of their tutoring sessions or even during the sessions. They talked about Potions and nothing else. 

Until one day they did.

They were in the lab, working on a Potion that needed to be brewed in three stages, boiling for half an hour between each stage. Unfortunately, it had to be stirred every couple of minutes so they couldn’t just leave and check on it later. To make matters worse, Scorpius had already botched it once, zoning out during the second half-hour stretch and ruining an hour’s worth of work. They had decided to start again. Scorpius had offered to stay and keep an eye on it alone but Al wouldn’t hear of it.

“You’ll be bored to tears. I’ll stay and keep you company.”

As it turned out, Al wasn’t very good company. He kept yawning and drifting off into space. They made a few half-hearted attempts at debating the pros and cons of using valerian root as a substitute for sopophorous beans in sleeping draughts but neither one of them put much effort into it. The potion gurgled away, often the only sound in the room as the conversation lagged. 

Al gave a heavy sigh and shook his head. “Sorry, Scorp. I’m just not on the ball today.”

“Not feeling well?”

“Just tired. I was up too late last night.”

Scorpius gave him a look. He was well familiar with Al’s reputation at the school. The rumour mill had him sleeping with a different person every week. 

Al caught the look and rolled his eyes. “Nothing like that. I’ll have you know the rumours of my rampant shagging are greatly exaggerated. It’s been a long time since I –” He cut off suddenly and Scorpius was glad for it. He had no interest in hearing the ins and outs of Al’s love-life. “No, I was with my family, playing Quidditch.” 

Scorpius raised his eyebrows in surprise.

“I know, me and Quidditch right? It’s just my youngest cousin, Jennie, made the Gryffindor team this year and well, she’s feeling nervous about her game next week. Apparently, the team captain’s hard on her so she asked us all if we could help her with a bit of extra practice. Don’t ask me how I got roped into it because you know I can’t play worth shit but somehow I ended up out on the pitch.”

He gave a small shrug and Scorpius tried not to laugh at the idea of Al helping anyone actually _improve_ at Quidditch.

“Anyway, wherever the Potter children gather,” Al continued, his voice becoming slightly bitter, “you know there’s a crowd and before I knew it, the impromptu practice turned into this big event and I got stuck in Gryffindor Tower until three a.m. with Marnie MacMillon hanging off me asking why I don’t play Quidditch for Slytherin because I’m obviously so good at it.” 

He grimaced and Scorpius snorted.

“Did she actually watch you play?”

“She couldn’t have, to come out with a line like that. Besides, it didn’t really matter what she said. Her hand on my arse was doing most of the talking for her.” 

From the tone of his voice, Scorpius gathered Al had not enjoyed the attention and he laughed, despite himself.

Scorpius was in the process of cutting up salamander intestines for the final stage of the potion. Not only was it smelly work but it was difficult too – the innards were tiny and slippery and tended to smush under the knife rather than slicing neatly. It didn’t help that his hands were coated in slick slime from handling them, making it hard to get a firm grip on his knife. Still, he was glad for the chance to practice. He wanted his technique to be perfect come NEWT time. 

He was still chuckling over Al’s misadventures when a thought suddenly struck him. “I can’t remember whether the small intestine is supposed to be cut on the transverse or diagonally.” He held up one gooey hand as evidence of his need for assistance. “Can you grab my notebook out of my bag? It will say in there.”

“No problem.” Al pulled out the notebook and began flipping through the pages. “What am I looking for?”

“It should be near the back, in blue ink. The page will say ‘internals preparation’ or something like that.”

“Yep, here it is. It says to cut diagonally, sections approximately five millimetres wide.”

“Great.”

Al was putting the notebook away when an envelope fell out of it. Even though Scorpius only saw it from the corner of his eye, he knew immediately what it was. 

Shit. This was going to lead to a conversation he didn’t want to have.

“You can just leave that,” he tried, knowing it was a vain attempt. “I’ll get it in a minute.”

But it was too late. Al had picked it up, immediately recognising the writing on the front.

“Is this from my dad?”

“Um, yeah.”

“Why is my dad writing to you?”

“Oh, it’s nothing.”

“ _Scorpius_ …”

“Really. It doesn’t have anything to do with you. It barely has anything to do with me.”

“Fine. I’ll just ask him next time I see him. If it really is nothing, I’m sure he’ll tell me.”

Scorpius scowled. He didn’t like the idea of Mr Potter getting dragged into the middle of things. Not only was it poor thanks for his help, Scorpius would find it humiliating. He liked Al’s dad, he didn’t want him to think of Scorpius as some sort of squabbling schoolboy. He was going to have to tell Al.

“Look, it’s really not that big a deal,” he said, setting aside his knife. “Last week was the fourth anniversary of my grandmother’s death. My dad, he never takes it very well.”

Al’s face softened at that. “I’m sorry, Scorp. I didn’t realise.”

Scorpius shook his head, not interested in Al’s apologies. “Whatever. It doesn’t matter. The point is, your dad helps him get through it. Has from the start. You know, with the funeral and everything.”

“I didn’t know my dad was at your grandmother’s funeral?”

“Really?” Scorpius was surprised. “It was front page on all the papers.”

Al shrugged. “I stopped reading the papers a long time ago.”

“Well, anyway. He was. The funeral was a bit of a spectacle. My grandfather showed up. He and my father hadn’t seen each other in almost twenty years. He tried to talk to me, my father freaked out, your dad intervened, calmed everyone down, stayed with my dad until after the service. Then he went back home with us and stayed the night. My dad drank too much scotch and went to bed early. Your dad and I stayed up most of the night talking.” 

He paused for a moment, remembering that night, all the things Mr Potter had said, how he’d helped. It was first time an adult outside his family had reached out to him. Mr Potter had helped Scorpius to make sense of a lot of things, especially where his father was concerned. “He’s a good man, your dad.”

“Yeah, he is.” 

“Anyway, he comes over every year on the anniversary with a bunch of white roses and bottle of scotch and gets my dad through it.”

“I had no idea,” Al said, one hand pushing through his hair. “Merlin. I’m sorry. I feel like an idiot. I didn’t realise our dads were even friends.”

“I don’t know that they are, really. I think there’s just some bond between them because of the war and my grandmother. I think your dad’s the only one who really gets it. I don’t really know why – my dad doesn’t talk to me much about his childhood or the war. But I know it helps him, having your father there. I don’t think he comes around regularly or anything. Anyway, your father always sends me a note after, just letting me know my dad’s all right. And that’s what that is.” He gestured to the envelope in Al’s hand. 

A silence settled between them. He could see Al taking in the information. He knew that in about thirty seconds, Al was going to open his mouth and ask all sorts of questions that Scorpius really didn’t feel like answering. Hoping to beat him to it, he cast around for something to talk about that would be easier than this.

“So you never told me why you need an E so badly on your Potions NEWT.”

“What?” Al asked, clearly thrown off track by the change of subject. “Oh. Right. I’m trying to get into the Curse Breaker program. Requires a minimum of an E in Potions, DADA, Charms, Transfiguration, Ancient Runes, Arithmancy and Astronomy. I’m pretty confident I can get an E no problem in everything but Potions and Arithmancy, so I’m putting some extra time into those.”

“Do you have an Arithmancy tutor as well?”

“Kind of. My cousin Rose is helping me.”

Scorpius smiled a bit to himself. Rose Granger-Weasley was undoubtedly brilliant but she was also a bit of a terror. She probably had Al reading Arithmancy texts while he brushed his teeth.

“So you still want to be a Curse Breaker, huh?”

“Yeah. I don’t know, maybe it’s stupid but ever since Uncle Bill told me about his job when I was seven years old, it’s all I’ve wanted to do. It just seems really interesting. There’s a puzzle to solve, you know? It’s not just about rushing and throwing spells at things. You’ve got to think, figure out which curses were used, how they are supported, which ones you can dissolve first without triggering the others. Plus, there’s enough danger in it to satisfy the reckless Potter in me,” he added with a grin.

“Hmmm. And your parents? What do they think of this?

“Well, Mum’s all for it. It’s easy to find work, you can live wherever you want, travel as much or as little as you want, and the pay is good. I think she underestimates the danger of the job though. I have a feeling Bill’s always downplayed it to keep everyone from worrying. Dad though, well, he knows exactly what’s involved, being an Auror and all. I’m sure he’d much prefer I had a nice safe desk job somewhere but as long as he’s in the field, he can’t really talk, so…” 

He shrugged and fell silent, watching as Scorpius finished with the salamander entrails.

“What about you? Got any plans for after school?”

“I don’t know,” Scorpius replied. “I imagine I’ll help my father manage the family estates and maybe go into Potions on the side. My uncle has an apothecary. He said he could take me on if I was interested.”

“You don’t sound too excited about that.”

Scorpius gave a small shrug. “It’s fine.”

“Fine. I see,” Al said, nodding. “So that’s what you think you’re _going_ to do but what about what you _want_ to do?”

“What?”

“Well, obviously managing the family estates and a bit of Potions work isn’t what you want to do – I mean, could you sound any less enthused by the prospect? – so then, what do you want to do?”

Scorpius gave an irritated huff. “What does it matter?”

“Humour me.” Al nudged him in the ribs with his elbow. “If you could do anything, what would it be?

“Well, I do like Potions, but the idea of working for my uncle, slaving away in some back room making wrinkle-reducing serums and basic healing draughts day in, day out seems pretty grim. I’ve always rather thought I’d enjoy doing some research, or maybe even teaching.”

“You? You hate everybody! Especially kids!”

“I do not! I just hate the people here. And they hated me first. But normal kids, kids who aren’t total arses, I think I would like teaching them.” 

He gave Al a defiant glare but Al just grinned back. 

“Well, for what it’s worth, you’re a fantastic tutor. When you’re not being a prat, that is. Assuming you can manage not to kill your students, I think you’d be great at it.”

“Maybe, but no one’s going to hire me. Malfoy, remember?”

The grin slipped from Al’s face. “You don’t know that for sure. It might not be that way. The war was a long time ago. People might not care.”

“You mean the way they didn’t care here?”

“Well, what about working somewhere else? You know, where no one cares if you’re a Malfoy. Somewhere in mainland Europe or over in America even?” 

“I can’t. My father can’t leave England, part of the Death Eater sanctions after the war. And I can’t leave him. It would destroy him.”

“Ah.”

“So my uncle’s apothecary it is. Likely toiling away in obscurity as others, who aren’t the son of a branded Death Eater, take credit for my work and reap the rewards.” 

“I’m sorry, Scorp.”

“It’s just the way it is. It’s been like this my whole life. I’m used to it.”

“You shouldn’t be. You shouldn’t _have_ to be,” Al said, his voice full of indignation and Scorpius had a sudden flash of Al at twelve, pacing around his dorm room, swearing under his breath, furious at Scorpius’s poor treatment at the hands of his fellow students.

Al saw the small smile that came to his face at the memory. “What?”

“Nothing. Just, same old Al.”

But even as the words left him, other memories of twelve year old Al came, memories that had teeth and that snatched his smile away. If Al noticed this, he was wise enough not to say anything about it. 

After that, they lapsed into silence for a while and then the potion needed tending and conversation drifted back into safer territory, focusing on the last stage of brewing. And maybe Scorpius would have been all right if things had stopped right there. Maybe he could have ignored their conversation, the way it felt strangely intimate, the way it was so bloody easy to talk to Al. Maybe he could have pretended it never happened. But then their hands brushed while adding the aloe and Al smiled at him and Scorpius was totally fucked.

Scorpius knew all of Al’s many smiles. Growing up in the glare of the media spotlight meant that Al had perfected his neutral smile. Scorpius had seen it a hundred times, aimed at classmates, teachers, even parents who had been visiting Hogwarts and stopped Al in the hallway to tell him how much they admired his father. Al also had his cheeky grin, the one he flashed when he thought he was being amusing or daring. He had his self-satisfied smirk, his nervous grin, and his small smile of acknowledgement. 

And then he had his genuine smile. It was nothing like any of the others. It was open and friendly and had something behind it that made you feel like it was just for you. And while Scorpius had seen all of Al’s other smiles since they started working together, he hadn’t seen that smile in a long, long time. In first year, it was a smile that made him feel special. Now, not only did it make him feel special but it also went straight to his cock. He was half-hard in the instant, mortified and immeasurably grateful for the cover of the table and loose school robes.

He managed to keep it together until they were done brewing, saying good-night with Al none the wiser. He made it all the way to privacy of his own bed, curtains pulled closed tight, but then he was stuck. Because try as he might, he couldn’t get the image of that smile out of his head and the more he thought about that smile, the more he thought how much he liked to see it, how he might like to see it every day, how he might like to see it first thing in the morning, in fact, as Al woke slowly beside him, his hair a tousled mess, his strong hands reaching for Scorpius, inviting him to play…

He clenched his hands into tight fists, his nails biting into his palms. He was _not_ going to wank to thoughts of Albus bloody Potter, thank you _very_ much. Instead, he sat on his bed and fumed, angry at his body for betraying him, angry at his mind for sticking him with thoughts he didn’t want to be having, angry at Al for putting him in this ridiculous position. Angry at himself for letting the Slytherin get to him yet again. 

After an hour of this, he stripped down and crawled under the covers. He just needed to go to sleep and forget all about it. Of course, that would be a lot easier without an aching hard-on demanding attention. 

Bloody Al.


	3. Chapter 3

8.

Scorpius had a very good memory. He could memorise text books, epic poems, potions formulas, even random strings of numbers. He could recall what he’d had for breakfast two weeks ago, what he’d got for his sixth birthday, the first time he’d ever caught a firefly in his hand. He had perfect faith in his memory, rarely writing things down on a calendar or in a journal. He just didn’t need to. Which was why it was strange that he had started forgetting. And given how well he remembered the events of first year, it was especially strange that most of this forgetting seemed to be centred around Al. 

First he forgot not to look at Al when the Slytherin entered the potions lab for their study sessions. Instead of pretending to be absorbed in his notes as he usually did, he started looking up at the sound of the door opening. Then he forgot not to look at Al when they were in class. After years of pointedly ignoring his existence, Scorpius was now glancing at him when going by his desk. And he forgot not to look at Al in the Great Hall, his eyes seeking the other boy out over breakfast, at lunch, at dinner. 

Then he forgot about the ‘no acknowledging Al’ rule. He nodded hello when they passed each other in the halls. He returned the grins Al gave him during class. And, if their eyes happened to meet in the Great Hall, he could feel his lips curve upwards before he even thought about it, unconsciously, unguardedly. Unwisely. 

As November drew to a close, it just kept getting worse. Their personal lives were drifting into their conversations more and more, their academic debates giving way to friendly banter, commiserating over school, talking about their families. Every now and then, Scorpius would react to these conversations with a jolt, suddenly remembering that he was supposed to hate Al, was supposed to avoid talking to him any more than was absolutely necessary. But then Al would say something funny or smile at him with _that_ smile and Scorpius would feel less certain, unclear on exactly why talking with Al was a bad thing. 

On the first day of December, Al came over to the Ravenclaw table at breakfast to show Scorpius an interesting note he’d found in one of his potions texts. He’d sat down next to him and helped himself to some eggs and toast as they talked about it. Before Scorpius knew it, they were having breakfast together regularly. And then dinner too. Suddenly, it seemed like they were together all the time and Scorpius kept forgetting. Forgetting to be distant. Forgetting to be angry. Forgetting to be careful.

And the more he forgot, the more Al started to feel like a friend again.

***

“Ugh, I can’t take this!” Al said, flinging down his quill. 

They were in the library, researching the plausibility of using Augurey tears as a substitute for Phoenix tears in a regenerating potion. “It’s too loud in here tonight. Those Hufflepuff firsties are giving me a headache.”

It was a few days before Christmas holidays and everybody seemed to be in high spirits. The library was relatively empty, most students more focused on the upcoming break than their work, and the students who were there were loud and giddy. Even their secluded corner was far from quiet, as a pack of giggling girls had taken up residence at a nearby shelf. They appeared to be scoping out boys; they kept alternating their attention between Al and Justin Dake, a sixth-year Ravenclaw sitting a few tables over. 

“Do you want to just call it a night?” Scorpius asked.

“No, but let’s take this somewhere else. Come back to Slytherin with me. We’ll work there.”

Alarm bells went off in Scorpius’s head. Studying together in the Slytherin common room felt very different from studying together in the library or the lab. It was a crossing of boundaries, out of the common spaces of the school into the personal ones and it felt like a bad idea. But for some reason, instead of refusing, he was nodding, gathering his things up to go. They left the library and started towards the dungeons, Scorpius trying to ignore the strange, fluttering feeling taking over his stomach.

They arrived at the blank expanse of wall that hid the entrance to the Slytherin quarters. Al whispered the password, an entrance appeared and they stepped through. Several people glanced over at their arrival, the looks on their faces making it clear they were less than pleased with what they saw. But Al either didn’t notice or was ignoring it and he waved a friendly hello as they walked through the room.

And straight to the Slytherin dorms.

They were going to Al’s room?

Apparently they were. Al strode towards the door marked “Seventh Year” and opened it without hesitation. Scorpius, however, paused in the doorframe, unsure what it might mean were he to step through.

Al dropped his bag and flopped on his bed. “You going to stand in the doorway all day?”

Scorpius stepped into the room silently, the door closing behind him. He was grateful none of Al’s roommates were around. He had a feeling he wouldn’t have been well-received. Most of the younger students weren’t too fazed by having a Malfoy about, he’d already faded into the background when they started Hogwarts, but the older students still held strong to the animosity that had dominated the school during Scorpius’s first year. 

He looked around. Not much had changed since he’d last been in there. The same four-poster beds lined the walls, same green bed-curtains, same strange, underwater windows. Al still had the quilt that he’d brought from home on his bed. It was a random patchwork, made up of scraps of bright fabric, a riot of colour. Al’s grandmother had made it for him. Scorpius remembered all the times he had sat on that bed, eyes picking out bits of pattern he had never noticed before. It seemed like there were thousands of them.

Al sat up, pulling his legs in, and nodded towards the end of the bed, indicating Scorpius should have a seat. So he did, leaning against the familiar high foot-board. How many times had they sat like this, on opposite ends of the bed, doing homework, playing chess, or just talking? Too many to count. Something painful thrummed in his chest and he pretended to be absorbed in picking lint from his jumper until it passed. 

They pulled out their books and went back to their work but there was only so much they could do without the resources of the library. Discussion quickly turned to their plans for the winter holidays.

“It’s going to be a bit strange for us,” Al said. “I’m staying with my dad the whole time but Lils is splitting her time between Mum and Dad. We’ll all be together for Christmas, of course, at my grandparents’ place.”

Scorpius knew Al’s parents had split up in fifth year. It had been all over the papers. Hell, it was still all over the papers, constant speculation about whether they would reconcile what had been the real cause of their split, what would happen next. 

“James isn’t going to be around at all, though. He’s spending the hols with his girlfriend in Brighton.”

Scorpius suspected Al was a bit upset about that. He and his brother might clash on occasion, but Scorpius knew they were very close and that Al liked everyone to be together during the holidays.

“So what about you? You got any plans?”

Scorpius shrugged. “Not really. Just going to be at home with my dad. I haven’t seen my mum in years; she doesn’t even pretend she’s going to come round anymore. But I expect my aunts will and maybe Ted at some point, I’m not sure.”

Al had slouched down against his pillows, his long legs stretched out alongside Scorpius. Scorpius had relaxed too, one leg dangling off the edge of the bed. He twisted slightly and threw an arm over the footboard, an old habit that his mind had forgotten but his body remembered. 

He noticed Al looking at him, a grin on his face. 

“What?”

“You. With your arm like that. I forgot you used to sit like that. Looks like you’re going to twist it right off.”

“It feels good,” Scorpius insisted. “I like the way it stretches my shoulder.”

“Yes, I remember. It still looks awkward as hell though.”

Al kept looking at him and his grin softened, his eyes too. Scorpius felt himself warm under the attention.

“ _What_?”

“Nothing. It’s just, it’s good to be here with you. Like this. I’ve really missed you.”

The words were like a bucket of cold water dumped over Scorpius’s head. He was on his feet in an instant, stepping away from the bed, from Al. “You’ve missed me?”

Al’s eyes widened; apparently he was surprised at Scorpius’s reaction. “Yes. I have. What, I don’t understand –”

Scorpius cut him off. “You don’t understand? You don’t understand why I might not be perfectly enraptured with your sweet little confession of affection? You fucking arse. You arrogant, stupid shit.”

He strode over to the door, about to leave, but then turned back, words tumbling out of his mouth. 

“You don’t get to miss me. _You_ ditched _me_ , remember? Months of unanswered mail. Telling me our friendship had just run its course, that I needed to let it go, that I was pathetic and clingy and embarrassing.” Al glanced away at Scorpius’s words, looking ashamed; it only made Scorpius angrier. His head was buzzing with it, an edgy vibration that was rapidly climbing to a breaking point. “What’s the matter? Did you somehow forget how you refused to talk to me for months, how you haven’t so much as looked at me for _years_? And you have the _fucking nerve_ to tell me you’ve missed me?”

Al was on his feet now too, approaching slowly, hands held out in front of him in a placating gesture. “Look you’re right, Scorp. You’re right. And I’m sorry, I’m so, so sorry, but there are things you don’t know.”

Scorpius snorted. “What, there’s some mystery bit of information that explains it all? Why you turned your back on me without a second thought? You knew what it was like for me. You knew you were my only friend, not just at school, but _ever_. I would have done anything for you. For fuck’s sake, Al, I nearly _died_. I nearly died and the only thing I was worried about was my father taking me out of Hogwarts and away from you. And you, you just threw it back in my face.”

“I didn’t! That’s not how it was!” Al said, his eyes wide and earnest. “Please, sit down. Let’s talk about this.”

Scorpius wanted to drive his fists into Al’s face until those stupid, pleading eyes swelled shut. “Talk about what? I was there. I know what happened.” 

“There’s more to it, if you’d just let me explain.”

“You explained it all pretty clearly at the start of second year, as I recall. Something about people growing apart. Not all friendships lasting forever. Any of this ringing a bell?”

“I know, I know what I said but I had to. Don’t you get it, Scorp? I did it to protect you.”

“What are you talking about?”

“Don’t you think I know how close you came to dying?” Al pushed a hand through his hair in agitation. “You didn’t wake up for _three days_. Do you have any idea what it was like, not being able to see you, not knowing if you were okay, your father glaring at me every time he left the hospital wing because he knew, he knew it was my fault that you’d got hurt?”

“My father didn’t blame you!”

“Of course he did. I mean, he never said it, but how could he not have? It was because of me that they targeted you. It was our friendship that pissed them off so much. I tried to avoid it, spent months trying to think of some other way but there wasn’t one. I had to end it. I had to.”

“And I’m the drama queen?” Scorpius sneered. “You could have just talked to me about it.”

Al shook his head and his hands made a choppy gesture. “You wouldn’t have agreed to it. I knew your fall wasn’t an accident. I knew you were putting yourself in danger coming back to school. If you were willing to risk death for the sake of our friendship, you were hardly going to agree to a plan that depended on us staying away from each other.”

Scorpius was almost shaking now, he was so angry. Who was Al to make that choice for him? “So you just decided that was that, never mind what I wanted.”

“Damn right I did!” Al said defiantly. “And I’d do it again, too. I’d have done anything to keep you safe. Even if it meant you hated me.”

“Nice martyr impression, Al. Fuck, that’s the stupidest thing I’ve ever heard in my life.”

“It wasn’t stupid. It worked. By the end of second year, no one was hassling you anymore. It _worked_.”

But Scorpius was barely listening to him anymore. The more Al talked, the more ludicrous it all sounded. “And you expect me to believe all this? That you ditched me, made me feel like shit, told me I was worthless, that our friendship was worthless, all to protect me?

Al closed his eyes, as though Scorpius’s summary of his actions was painful to hear. “Yes.”

“But secretly, all this time, you’ve still considered me a friend? All these years, you’ve ignored me just to keep me safe?”

“Yes.”

The thing was, even though he was so angry his whole body was screaming, he wanted to believe it. He wanted to believe it so badly, that Al hadn’t meant all the hurtful things he’d said to him, hadn’t wanted to leave their friendship behind. 

But it just didn’t make sense. It was a sweet story, to be sure, and maybe twelve-year-old Al would have thought it was the best way to help Scorpius. But that didn’t explain why he was so cruel about it. He could have ended their friendship without being so cold-hearted, so hateful. He had said all the things that he knew would hurt Scorpius the most. If his goal was simply to sever ties between them, he needn’t have gone to such extremes. If he’d had any friendly feelings at all towards Scorpius, he never would have sunk so low in his attacks. 

And things had been different for Scorpius for a long time. They could have become friends again any time in the last few years and it wouldn’t have been as dangerous as it was in first year. Back then, they had been at the mercy of older students who were stronger, faster, and knew more magic, but the last few years, Scorpius and Al could both hold their own against anyone. Scorpius might have been hassled, but he was positive it wouldn’t be like it was before. And if their friendship meant even half as much to Al as it had meant to him, he would have come to Scorpius with this confession long before now.

No, this was just a clever story to excuse being a total shit in the past. This was just a way to keep Scorpius around, keep him helping Al with his Potions. Because there was no one nearly as good as Scorpius when it came to Potions. Not even Granger-Weasley could match him and everyone knew it. This song and dance was just Al trying to save his own arse, trying not to lose his chance at the E he so desperately needed to get into the Curse Breaker program. 

“Fuck you, Al,” Scorpius said, a sneer curling his lip. “If you think I’m actually going to believe that, you’re even more of an idiot than I thought. Look, just stay away from me, all right? Find someone else to help you with Potions. I’m done with this.”

He did leave then, stalking out of the room without looking back.

9.

Scorpius avoided Al the best he could for the rest of the week. He ate his meals quickly, leaving the Great Hall as soon as he finished. He sat on the opposite side of the room from Al during class and didn’t look over at him once. He crumpled the notes Al sent his way without reading them; he had no interest in what Al had to say. 

The days ticked by tortuously slowly until finally it was Friday, the last day before holidays. In the morning, they would all leave and he wouldn’t have to see Al or even think about him for two weeks. As he left his last class, his mood started to lift.

It wasn’t until he arrived back at his dorm room and saw the brightly wrapped box on his bed that Scorpius remembered there was something else important about the last day before Christmas holiday besides his imminent respite from idiotic Potters. Every year on that day, Scorpius found a package on his bed when he got back from his last class. Though he was never entirely certain it would come from one year to the next, so far it always had. It was probably the strangest Christmas gift he had ever received and definitely the most enigmatic. It was also his favourite and seeing it now, a huge smile broke over his face and he rushed to his bedside

He read the note tied to the top of the box. 

_Merry Christmas, Scorpius. Know that I’m thinking of you and wishing you the very best for the New Year._

It was unsigned, of course. It always was. The handwriting was neat, elegant, and completely unfamiliar. The first year he had received this gift, he had spent weeks peering at the handwriting of everyone he knew, trying to match it up to the note but to no avail. Magic was no help either; identification spells came back with nothing. Over the years, he had given up trying to figure out who the anonymous sender was but he never stopped wondering.

It had started in his first year. Al had been with him, as he always was back then, when he arrived back at Ravenclaw Tower to find a box sitting on his bed. Al had reached for it excitedly before Scorpius stopped him. By then, only four months into Hogwarts, Scorpius had already learned not to open mysterious packages without checking them thoroughly for spells, curses, hidden sharp objects, or other nasty surprises. But when all of his scanning spells came back clean, he’d picked it up and examined it carefully. It just looked like an ordinary present.

“Open it,” Al had urged, impatient.

And so he had. Inside had been a beautiful blue glass bottle and a note that read: “Do not open until alone.”

“What is it?” Al had asked.

“I don’t know. A bottle of something.”

“Who’s it from?”

“I don’t know, it’s not signed.”

“Do you think it’s dangerous?”

“The scans came back clean.”

“So are you going to open it?”

“I don’t know. Do you think I should?”

After some debate, they had decided Scorpius should go for it. Al was going to wait outside the door, just in case it turned out to be something embarrassing. Plus, that way he could be close at hand if it was something dangerous and he could keep any of Scorpius’s roommates from barging in until the bottle had finished doing whatever it was it did.

And so a few moments later, with the door to the dorm room ajar, Scorpius sat on his bed and opened the bottle. It appeared to be empty. Not a potion then. He shook it but nothing fell out. In fact, for almost a full minute, nothing happened at all. He had been about to tell Al to come back in when the air around him seemed to shimmer and thicken until a misty purple cloud formed in front of him. Colours swirled in the mist, bright darts of gold, green, red and blue. After a moment, the dancing swirls formed into patterns and then images and suddenly Scorpius found himself looking at a projection of his own memories.

He saw himself studying with Al by the lake, the trees bright with autumn leaves. He watched as Al tossed aside his book in frustrated boredom and started instead lobbing bits of paper at Scorpius. The Scorpius in the mist frowned at Al and acted annoyed for a while before finally cracking a smile and joining in. The paper throwing quickly escalated, culminating in a wrestling match which ended when Al fell into the lake. Scorpius hauled him out, laughing, and Al was laughing too and they both fell down onto the ground, tears streaming down their faces they were laughing so hard. 

Then purple fog swirled and the scene changed, a new image blooming in the mist – Scorpius and his father. Scorpius was younger here, eight or nine. He and his father were in Diagon Alley. A stranger was yelling at his father, stabbing a finger at him, trying to poke him in the chest. His father blocked the man’s hand, which only seem to enrage the man further. The man stepped closer to his father, shoving Scorpius aside as he did so. Scorpius could see his father’s face contort, see the rage enter his eyes. He helped Scorpius to his feet and gently guided him behind him. One hand stayed on Scorpius’s shoulder as his father turned back to face the angry man, pulling out his wand as he did so. The man’s face quickly changed from angry to fearful and he was backing away with great rapidity. Then Aurors were popping into existence all around them, taking his father into custody. 

Scorpius remembered those events well. It had taken three days for the family lawyers to get the Ministry to admit his father hadn’t actually done anything wrong and to release him. 

The image had faded away then and the mist itself had dissipated, leaving Scorpius sitting alone on his bed feeling extremely confused. He called Al in and told him exactly what had happened, but Al had no idea what it all meant, either.

Once they were back from Christmas holidays, they had scoured the library, trying to find out what exactly the gift had been. But despite searching for months and asking every adult they knew, they never found any answers.

Perhaps he should have been more alarmed than he had been back then – after all, someone had given him a mysterious gift that seemed to be able to pluck memories from his brain and play them for anyone to see. That or someone had been spying on him most of his life. But somehow the gift had left him with a warm feeling. He couldn’t explain why, but he’d felt positive that it wasn’t a malicious plot against him. If he had to guess, he’d say someone was trying to tell him something. He just had to figure out what that something was. 

The bottle seemed to only work that one time. He’d tried putting the stopper back in and pulling it out again but nothing happened. The bottle didn’t seem to have much to do with it aside from holding the spell or whatever it was. But it was also the only part of the gift he could hold on to and so Scorpius had kept it. And when he received another one the next year, he kept that one, too. He kept all of them, wrapped carefully, in the bottom of his trunk. 

Some of the images changed from year to year, some stayed the same. The two images that had been there the first year, him and Al play fighting, him and his father in Diagon Alley, appeared every year. The second year, he saw the time he’d accidentally knocked a bird’s nest out of a tree. There had been two little babies inside and they had died. He’d never felt so horrible in all his life. But by fourth year, that image was gone. 

In his fourth year, sexual images appeared for the first time. He had watched, cheeks burning, as an image of himself masturbating in the shower formed in the purple mist. It was especially humiliating because he had known exactly what he had been thinking about at the time; it was the day that Al had spilled a corrosive potion on himself in class and Professor Chen had spelled away his clothes, everything but his white briefs, before the liquid could eat through the cloth and touch his skin. It had only been for a split second and then Chen spelled a new set of robes onto him but in that instant Scorpius had seen Al almost naked and the image had burned itself onto his brain. He had wanked himself raw all week over it, destroying in the process any lingering confusion about his sexuality.

Pulling himself out of these remembrances, Scorpius looked down at the new bottle in currently his hand. Would this be the last year he received this gift? Would the bottles continue once he left Hogwarts? Even though he hadn’t solved the puzzle of what they were and who was sending them, these mysterious gifts meant more to him than he cared to admit. He felt a bit bereft at the thought of losing them.

Well, if this was the last one, he’d just have to be sure to enjoy it.

He pulled the stopper from the bottle and watched as the now familiar mist gathered in front of him. He watched as he and Al rolled around on the lawn. He watched his father and the man in Diagon Alley. He saw himself, maybe four or five years old, playing in the garden with his father. He watched as his father tossed him in the air and caught him, whirling him around until they were both dizzy. Eventually they fell onto the lawn where they lay quietly for some time, watching the clouds, his father’s arm curled around him, his head on his father’s chest. Every now and then, his father would press a soft kiss to Scorpius’s forehead. Scorpius smiled to himself as the image faded away. That memory had first appeared a couple of years ago and was one of Scorpius’s favourites. 

The next memory was one he hadn’t seen before – him standing atop the battlements of the Astronomy Tower, watching the sunset. He remembered that day. It had been back in September, shortly after Hathaway had approached him about tutoring Al. He’d started thinking about Al and then about his relationships with people in general. He’d felt lonely that day, lonelier than he’d felt in a long time.

The last image showed Scorpius and a lean, fair-haired man in bed together. Jean-Luc. Scorpius had met him during a trip to France two years ago. He’d been a university student, studying art history and politics. They’d met in a café when he’d asked Scorpius for a cigarette. They’d spent the next three weeks together, practically never leaving Jean-Luc’s flat. He’d been Scorpius’s first lover and the only one who’d ever meant anything to him. The others had been quick one-off’s at the bar when he’d snuck out of the house during summer holidays. His memories of Jean-Luc were good ones and he smiled as he watched the scene play before him. 

He and Jean-Luc were together, in bed, naked. Jean-Luc had his mouth around Scorpius’s cock and one hand half-buried in Scorpius’s arse. Scorpius had his hands wound tight in Jean-Luc’s blond hair. His back was arching off the mattress and he was moaning with every thrust of Jean-Luc’s fingers. From the look of absolute pleasure on his face in the image, Scorpius guessed they had been at this for a while.

Sure enough, the Scorpius in the misty image was now pulling away from Jean-Luc, shifting to climb on top of the young man, straddling his hips. Scorpius felt his cock grow hard as he watched the image of himself lowering onto Jean-Luc’s straining erection. Against the purple backdrop, Jean-Luc’s hands grabbed his hips, fingers digging into flesh. Scorpius licked his lips as he watched. He could practically feel those hands on him now, gripping him, dragging him down onto that hard, hot cock…

Just then, he heard a cough from behind him. He whipped around to see Albus standing there, blushing. He turned back to the memory of him and Jean-Luc, just hitting their stride, and knew it was clearly visible to Al. 

Fuck. _Fuck_. 

He spun back to face Al, advancing on the Slytherin purposefully. “I swear, Al, if you tell anyone, I will kill you. I will wring your neck with my bare hands, I don’t care if you are Harry Potter’s son.”

“Tell anyone what?” Al asked, his eyes glued on the images playing out in front of him.

Scorpius gave him an incredulous look. “What do you think?” 

Al dragged his eyes away from the misty scene to give Scorpius an incredulous look of his own. “That you like blokes? Scorpius, I’m the last person who’s going to give you a hard time about being that. I mean, you know about me, right?”

Scorpius snorted. “Oh, please. As if it’s the same thing.”

Al raised his eyebrows and gestured at the purple mist. “Um, we both like fucking men. I think that’s the same thing.”

“First of all, from what I hear, you like fucking pretty much anyone. Secondly, being the fashionably bisexual son of the Saviour of the Wizarding World is just a bit different than being a completely bent Malfoy.”

“Scorpius –”

Scorpius cut him off. He was not interested in having a discussion about sexual preferences with Al. “Look, just keep your mouth shut about it, all right?”

“Okay, okay. I won’t tell anyone.” Al was quiet for a minute, his eyes once again locked on to the sight of Scorpius riding Jean-Luc’s cock. Scorpius refused to look but he knew from the sound of things, they were getting near the end. “So who’s the bloke?”

For fuck’s sake. Did he actually think Scorpius was going to talk to him about this?

Scorpius marched towards the door and held it open meaningful. “Show’s over.”

“But I need to talk to you.”

Scorpius gritted his teeth. “Fine. But in the hall.”

With a nod, Al followed him out. Scorpius closed the door firmly behind them, dismayed to find he could still faintly hear the sound of his own orgasmic cries. The universe hated him. There was no other explanation.

Al was grinning at him. Scorpius glared.

“What are you doing here, Al?” 

“You wouldn’t talk to me.”

“And you thought if you just barged into my personal living quarters, I’d be suddenly amenable to conversation?”

“I did knock. Twice, actually. You just didn’t hear me. Which is understandable, considering.” He nodded towards the dorm room. “What was that anyway?”

“A gift,” Scorpius said shortly. 

Al grinned again. “Some gift.”

Scorpius closed his eyes and took a deep breath. “So help me, Al, I am about three seconds away of hitting you with a genital rotting curse. _What do you want_?”

Al stopped grinning, his expression becoming serious. “I just wanted to give you this.” He held out a small box.

Scorpius made no move to take it. “You don’t have anything I want.”

“Please, just take it.”

“I told you, I don’t want it.”

“Scorp, come on,” Al said with a heavy sigh.

“Don’t you have somewhere else you could be right now?” Scorpius asked pointedly.

“No, but if you take the present, I’ll leave anyway.” Al held the gift out and gave it a small shake, as though trying to lure a stubborn dog.

“Slytherin to the last,” Scorpius muttered. He took the box and then looked at Al expectantly. Al sighed again and left, his footsteps growing faint as he disappeared down the dormitory stairs.

Bloody fucking Al.

***

It was six days before Scorpius’s curiosity got the better of him and he opened Al’s present. He had put away in the bottom drawer of his dresser as soon as he got home, determined not to think about it, but really, the fact that he hadn’t just thrown it away meant that it was only a matter of time. His father was out for the morning – his quarterly meeting at Gringotts to go over the accounts. Scorpius was alone in his room, decidedly not thinking about Al or what might be in the box. After not thinking about it for close to twenty minutes, he admitted defeat, digging the gift out of the dresser and opening it.

It was a stack of letters, each addressed to Mr Albus Potter in Scorpius’s own neat script. The letters he had written to Al the summer after first year. The ones Al had never replied to. 

Scorpius just looked at them for a long time, slowly shuffling through them, his fingers tracing the words on the fronts of the envelopes, following the lines he had laid down so long ago. Then he began opening them, one by one, and reading the letters he had written in another lifetime. Seeing those words again, the hopeful note in them, the absolute faith in his friend, so misplaced, Scorpius felt angry tears come to his eyes. He tossed the letters aside.

So Al had kept them, so what? That didn’t mean anything except that he was a packrat. So what if, when he looked closely at them, the envelopes looked pretty battered, as though letters had been taken in and out of them many times? So what if the pages were crumpled and worn, as though they had been handled often, as though they had been read over and over?

It didn’t mean anything, Scorpius thought fiercely. For all he knew, Al had taken them out over and over again to show to other people so they could all laugh at Scorpius, idiot that he was, thinking he and Al Potter were friends. 

And even if that wasn’t true, even if he had kept them all these years for sentimental reasons, it still didn’t make up for the fact that he had abandoned Scorpius, left him friendless in a school that hated him. And it didn’t make up for the fact that he was toying with him now, pretending to be his friend so Scorpius would help him in Potions, making up stupid excuses to explain away his behaviour in first year. No, it was going to take more than a few creased letters to make up for all that.

Scorpius was still repeating all this to himself when he shoved the letters back into the box and threw it under his bed. He kept repeating it to himself while he was in the shower, the hot water washing away any evidence of tears. And while he roughly pulled his clothes on. And while he headed down the stairs and out the door.

And while he Apparated to the Potters’ front doorstep.

The house was under a Fidelius Charm, of course, but Mr Potter had given him the address years ago, right after his grandmother’s funeral, telling him to come over any time he needed to. Scorpius never had, but the gesture had meant more to him than Mr Potter probably knew.

He knocked on the door, once, twice, and waited.

After a long moment, he heard the sound of banging from inside the house and a voice, muffled through the door, calling, “Hold on, hold on. I’m coming!”

Then the door opened and there was Al, barefoot, wearing jeans and a t-shirt that was clinging to his damp torso, his wet hair dripping down the side of his neck. “Sorry, I was just getting out of the – Scorpius?”

Scorpius’s mouth went dry and his breath seemed catch in his throat. He felt off balance; even though he was the one who had come to Al’s house and banged on the door, it still felt somewhat shocking to see him. For some reason, Scorpius had imagined Mr Potter would answer the door. He shook himself and let a scowl come onto his face. 

“It doesn’t change anything.”

“What are you talking about?” Al asked.

“The letters, the fact that you kept them. It doesn’t change anything.”

Al sighed. “Look, why don’t you come in so we can talk about this.”

Scorpius didn’t move.

Al rolled his eyes. “You might be willing to stand out there and freeze your bollocks off but I’m not. Come on.”

Al held the door open for him. After a moment, Scorpius stepped into the house. As he passed by Al, he could feel the heat radiating off of him, warmth from the shower drifting across Scorpius’s cold cheeks. And god, but Al smelled good, like soap and after-shave and fresh, clean skin. As it had many times before, Al’s scent washed over Scorpius, sharp need spiking within him in response. With alarming clarity, he suddenly realised what a terrible idea this had been but Al was closing the door and it was too late now and besides, he had come here for a reason.

Al took Scorpius’s coat and hung it up without a word. Scorpius looked around, taking in his surroundings, trying to distract himself from the growing heat in his belly. The house wasn’t as large as the one he shared with his father, or as grand, but it had a warm, homey feeling. There were coats thrown over the banister, shoes clogging up the entryway, family photographs lining the hall. It was easy to imagine Al growing up here.

“Can I get you something to drink?”

Al’s voice, a little nervous, broke into Scorpius’s thoughts.

“Um, sure. Some water?” Scorpius replied. He suddenly felt nervous, too, his former anger evaporating, replaced by something fluttery and strange. Merlin, he was pathetic. One minute around a fresh-from-the-shower Al and he was folding.

“We have other things besides water, if you’d prefer,” Al said, leading the way towards the kitchen.

“No, water’s fine.”

Al poured him a glass. Scorpius took it from him, their fingers touching briefly, sending unwanted and humiliating bursts of pleasure dancing across his skin. He took a small sip and set it down on the counter. He’d best just get on with it before he did something to embarrass himself. He forced himself to ignore how good Al looked, to focus instead on how he’d felt while reading the letters. Hurt, ashamed, incensed. 

Once he trusted himself to speak, he turned on Al. “Why did you give me those letters?”

Al answered immediately, obviously expecting the question. “They’re the only proof I have that I was really just trying to keep you safe. I wanted you to believe me about what happened after first year.”

“Why did you keep them?”

“Because they were from you.”

“And?”

“And you matter to me. You’ve _always_ mattered to me. Why is it so hard for you to accept that our friendship meant as much to me as it did to you?”

 _Because you left_ , Scorpius thought and the bitterness of it helped to strengthen his resolve. “Even if I believe you, and I’m not saying I do, it doesn’t change anything.”

“It has to change _something_.” 

“Why?” Scorpius asked, a sneer curling his lip. “Because that’s the way you planned it way back in first year? Ditch me, ignore me for five years and then make up at the last second so we can leave Hogwarts as best mates?”

“Scorp, come on. You know I’m telling you the truth. Why are you making this so hard?”

Scorpius stared at him. “Merlin, you really don’t get it, do you? You were the only friend I’d ever had, the only person that ever really knew me and, as far as I knew, one day you just up and decided I wasn’t worth your time. I’ve been living with that for _five and half years_ , Al. Thinking it, feeling it, living it. And you think you can hand me a stack of letters and a tidy little explanation and that’s all just going to go away?”

“I’m sorry, Scorp. I only did it –”

“To keep me safe, yes I know. The almighty Albus Potter, taking the lives of others into his own hands as he sees fit.”

“What would you have done if our situations were reversed? Just sat back and let me get hurt again and again? Maybe even die?”

“I wouldn’t have left you out of the decision! I wouldn’t have made you feel like a worthless piece of shit!”

Al frowned and leaned back against the kitchen counter. “I don’t know what to say other than I’m sorry. I did the best I could at the time.”

“So you say.”

For a long moment, neither one of them spoke. Scorpius watched Al closely, watched the emotions drifting across his face, making his jaw clench and unclench, making his lips twist and then frown. For his part, Al studied his feet, his bare toes rising up from the floor and wiggling slightly. When he finally spoke, he didn’t look up. “So is that why you’re here then? To tell me what an arse I am and that there’s no hope of us getting our friendship back?”

His voice was small and sad and something about it made Scorpius feel very tired. 

He wasn’t sure why he was here, why he was fighting Al so hard. It was empty, meaningless, all this fury and reproach and prodding at old wounds. The truth was he knew he was going to forgive Al. Some part of him, some deep, hidden part that remembered and hoped and felt far more than it should, had been waiting to forgive him for over five years. No, there were no questions about that. The only thing Scorpius wasn’t clear on was whether or not he was going to regret it. 

Bloody Al. 

“Yes, to the arse part. As for the other, I don’t know. I don’t know what to think anymore where you’re concerned.” 

Al looked up then, green eyes serious and full of something Scorpius didn’t quite understand, something determined and fierce but fragile too, as though Scorpius could break him, right then, if he wanted to. Scorpius’s chest gave a sudden lurch. He hadn’t expected to see that, hadn’t known it even existed, that part of Al that had been waiting for this for over five years as well. The part of him that needed Scorpius’s forgiveness. 

Scorpius couldn’t meet that gaze. He dropped his eyes, studied the pattern on the kitchen floor.

Al moved towards him, slowly, until he stood right in front of him. And really, he was much too close. He was almost all that Scorpius could see, broad chest and strong shoulders, the line of his collarbone underneath his t-shirt, damp hair clinging to the side of his neck, dark wisps against tawny skin. 

“Please, Scorp. Just give me a chance. It will be better this time.” Al took Scorpius’s hand in his. “I’ve missed you so much. Whether I’m allowed to or not, I have.”

Scorpius stood there with Al’s fingers wrapped around his own, the warmth so familiar and yet so new, his heart racing. He didn’t know what to think of Al’s closeness or the softness of his skin but he knew it was time for this to be done. Five and half years was long enough, for both of them. 

“Okay,” he said softly.

Al’s smile lit up the whole room and he pulled Scorpius into a tight hug. Scorpius tried to ignore how much it felt like coming home.


	4. Chapter 4

10.

It was so easy to fall back into his friendship with Al. In a lot of ways, it wasn’t that different than it had been before the holidays. Just like before, they spent three evenings a week together studying and working on Potions. Just like before, they ate most of their meals together and sat together in class. They talked about their lives, their families, and whatever else came to mind. Except now, when they talked about the future, they included each other in it. There was an understanding that a month from now, a year from now, five years from now even, they would still know each other, still speak to each other. And Scorpius felt more relaxed around Al. He no longer had that little voice in the back of his head admonishing him to be careful, not to trust. It was comfortable, effortless, the way it should have been the last five and half years.

No, the only thing that was a bit tricky was managing his attraction to Al. Not that Al was making this easy. Scorpius didn’t know if it was because Al knew about his sexual preferences now or if it was simply the way he was with friends but it seemed like Al made a lot more jokes and sexual innuendos than he did before. Like the time when they had been working on a particular difficult potion, and had already messed it up twice. As they vanished the contents from the cauldron and prepared to start again, Al had said. “It’s kind of tricky. But that’s okay. I like ‘em nice and hard.”

And then Al had winked at him.

Then there was the time they were trying to wrestle giant Yuay beans out of their pod. Scorpius had been trying to go about it carefully, they were very expensive after all, with little success, when Al stepped in and just ripped the thing in half.

“It’s good to be gentle but every now and then, you have get forceful, you know?” Al had said with a rakish grin. “Sometimes rough is a really good thing.”

Of course, at the time. Scorpius had been too irritated by the fact that they had lost half the beans to Al’s ‘rough’ tactics to pick up on the suggestiveness of the comment. But he thought about it later, alone in his bed, and it made him reach for his cock.

Then there was the touching. A brushing of hands while reaching for a stirring rod, a press of Al’s hard chest against Scorpius’s back while reaching behind him to grab a notebook. When they walked down the halls together, shoulders and hands seemed to knock against each other much more than they used to. Of course it didn’t mean anything. It was just Al being more comfortable around him, not being so careful to avoid touching Scorpius as he had before. And even though Scorpius’s head knew this was true, his body seemed to have trouble distinguishing the difference between friendly carelessness and flirtation. Scorpius hadn’t been so grateful for the cover of school robes since he first hit puberty. 

That Wednesday they were working in the lab, Scorpius once again struggling with his insubordinate libido. Al had shown up in that soft green jumper of his, the one that clung to his frame and made his eyes glow and it was everything Scorpius could do not to jump him the second he walked through the door. He just knew that even looking in Al’s direction would make him blush, so he kept his eyes glued to his work, cutting up ingredients in silence. 

“Are you okay, Scorp?” Al asked. “You seem tense tonight.”

“I’m fine. Just, you know, focused on the task at hand.”

“You sure?”

“Yep, I’m sure.”

“Okay,” Al said uncertainly, turning back to his own preparations. 

A moment later, Al shifted in his seat and stretched his legs out. The movement caused Al’s leg to press lightly against his own and Scorpius had to bite down on his tongue to keep from groaning. The feel of Al’s thigh, warm and long and lean, was impossible to ignore. As the heat of Al’s skin seeped through the fabric to warm Scorpius’s leg, all Scorpius could think about was how that thigh would feel under his hands, under his lips, under his tongue. His cock was starting to thicken and a humiliating blush stole over his cheeks. Fuck, he needed to calm down. The last thing he wanted right now was for Al to notice that an accidental brushing of legs gave Scorpius a hard-on that would last for hours. 

He was so wrapped up in trying to control his own reaction that it was several minutes before he realised that Al hadn’t moved his leg. When he dared a glance over, he saw the smallest of grins curving Al’s lips and he realised that this was no accidental brushing of legs. Al knew exactly what he was doing and had for some time.

Scorpius glared at him through narrowed eyes. “Bloody Slytherin.”

Al winked at him. “And don’t you forget it.” 

They grinned at each other for a second and then went back to their work, neither one moving their legs.

***

“So, Scorp, can I ask you something?” Al was sitting on the table, absent-mindedly stirring the contents of the cauldron. It was Friday night and they had been working for almost an hour. Al had seemed jittery much of the time. Scorpius had a feeling he was about to find out why.

“Sure.”

“Without you getting snippy about it?”

Hmmm. That didn’t sound promising. Scorpius set down his knife and turned to face his friend.

“Well, that rather depends on what you have to ask me.”

“Before Christmas hols, that purple cloud thing...”

Scorpius froze. _That_ was what he wanted to talk about? “Yes?”

“That bloke you were… with. Is he your boyfriend?”

“No,” Scorpius replied, his heart speeding up. He willed himself to calm down. Al was just asking about it. It didn’t mean anything. It didn’t. _But he was flirting with you_ , said a little voice in the back of his head. _He’s been touching you constantly and flirting with you and now he’s asking about boyfriends_. He took a long, slow breath and forced himself to keep his eyes on his work as he answered. “He’s someone I knew a while ago. I haven’t seen him in a couple of years.”

“That’s too bad,” Al said. “He was quite good-looking. Seemed rather talented, too.” From the sound of his voice, Scorpius was certain Al was grinning.

“Yeah, he was.” He could feel a small grin on his own face.

“So do you have a boyfriend?”

Scorpius clamped down hard on the mortifying giddy feeling that rushed through him at the question. He was going to make a fool of himself before this conversation was over, he just knew it. He forced out a derisive laugh. “Right. ‘Cause men all over England are just lining up to date me.”

Al shrugged. “Maybe they would be, if they knew you were interested.”

“I think it’s safer if this secret stays hidden. The last thing I need is to give the general public more reasons to dislike me.”

“I think you’re wrong about that. The wizarding world is a lot more accepting than you’re giving them credit for.”

Scorpius sighed and the frustration he always felt when he thought about the situation deflated him a little. “Maybe on the surface, but I think there’s still a lot of prejudice and ignorance if you dig a bit deeper. Especially where I’m concerned. I somehow doubt all that tolerance and acceptance would be extended to a queer Malfoy.”

“So you’re just going to pretend you’re straight?”

“Yep.”

“Forever?”

“For as long as I have to. Besides, it’s not like it’s any real hardship. Like I said, potential suitors aren’t exactly knocking down my door.”

“Well, for the sake of argument, what if someone was to knock down your door. Would you be interested?” Al asked.

“I don’t know. I suppose it would depend on who was doing the knocking down.”

Al hopped off the table and came to stand right in front of Scorpius. He had that look on his face, that one that was so Al, all earnest and determined and open. Scorpius thought his heart was going to jump right out of his mouth.

“What if it was me?”

Scorpius couldn’t speak. He was quite certain there wasn’t enough oxygen in the room; his chest felt tight. 

“Scorpius?” Al’s eyes were searching his face, looking for an answer.

Scorpius desperately wanted to say something sexy and witty but the words caught in his throat. And now Al was stepping closer, his body only inches away. His hands were coming up, gently pushing Scorpius’s hair away from his forehead, his touch feather light, barely there. Al’s fingers were trailing across his jaw, moving down towards his chin. Al’s thumb brushed softly across Scorpius’s bottom lip. 

He should say something, do _something_ , but he just froze, just stood there with Al’s hands on his face and Al’s warm breath on his skin. But Al seemed to understand because a small smile curved his lips and he leaned in closer and then Al was kissing him. 

Al’s mouth was gentle against Scorpius’s, his lips warm and soft. Al’s hands were cupping his face, holding him so tenderly, so carefully, as if Scorpius was something very precious. Al pulled away slightly and his eyes opened and Scorpius couldn’t remember if he had ever seen the colour green before that moment.

“Scorp.” Al’s voice was low, raspy. “I’ve wanted you for so long. So long, you have no idea.”

The words barely made sense and Scorpius still couldn’t breathe and his heart, Merlin, surely his heart wasn’t meant to beat so fast? 

Now Al’s mouth was back on his, this kiss more urgent, and all the thoughts racing through Scorpius’s brain just stopped. The confusion, the surprise, the nervousness, everything just stopped, fell away until there was nothing but Al’s mouth moving against his, Al’s hands on his body, one moving to grip his shoulder, the other on the back of his neck, strong fingers twining in Scorpius’s hair. There was nothing but the warmth of his body, the smell of his skin, the sound of his breath between kisses. Al moved closer still and Scorpius felt something deep within him, something that had been tight and tense and careful for far too long, finally let go. This was right. This was so right. 

And now Scorpius was moving too, his body curving into Al’s, his hands coming up to wind in that wild thatch of hair, his lips parting, deepening the kiss, taking as much as giving. It was all hot and wet and good, so fucking good, like breathing after too long underwater, ragged and a bit painful but fuck, it was just everything. Everything. Al moaned softly, the sound almost lost in their kiss, and now Al’s arms were pulling him closer, or was it Scorpius who was pulling Al closer? He couldn’t even tell anymore and it didn’t matter anyway. Nothing mattered except the heat between them and, Merlin, Al’s hands were everywhere, setting Scorpius’s whole body to burning and he lost himself in it.

Scorpius couldn’t say how long they stayed like that, arms wound around each other, bodies pressed close, lips moving in a heated confession of need and longing. All he knew was when they finally broke apart, the contents of the cauldron had boiled away and everything had changed.

***

The next few weeks passed in a hazy blur of pleasure. Scorpius wanted to keep their relationship a secret; despite Al’s assurances, he wasn’t sure if coming out publicly was such a good idea. He and Al spent as much time together as was possible. They continued to study together and eat together, as they had before. Occasionally, they studied in Ravenclaw Tower or in Al’s dorm room, but most of the time, so as not to raise suspicion, they were in the library or the Potions lab. Of course, they were alone in the Potions lab, the door closed and no one having any reason to come in, so they rarely got any work in there at all. 

Being with Al was more amazing than anything had any right to be. When they were together, Scorpius felt as though he would jump out of his skin from excitement but he also felt at peace, as if something that had been out of alignment for a long time had finally fallen back into place. It was easy being with Al and so good. Scorpius wanted to be with him all the time, to have his hands on Al all the time. Everything just made so much more sense when they were together, when he could feel Al’s mouth on his lips, Al’s body pressed against his, Al’s cock in his hand. And if Al’s constant kisses and demanding hands were anything to go by, he felt the same way. Scorpius couldn’t even begin to count the hours they spent lost in each other, in the pleasure they created, in the world that existed only for them. 

But they weren’t as careful as they should have been. Moaning Myrtle caught them in the abandoned bathroom one day when they had met between classes for a quick snog and grope. 

“She won’t tell anyone,” Al had assured him. “Trust me. My dad told me Myrtle always kept all of his secrets.”

But Scorpius wasn’t so sure. Myrtle had seemed rather put out when they wouldn’t continue their activities once they discovered her watching.

And then there was the time up in the stationery cupboard on the fourth floor. Scorpius had been pressed up against the wall, his trousers around his ankles and Al’s hand firmly around his cock, when he could have sworn he heard the door open and then close again rapidly. Al insisted he didn’t hear anything but he probably wouldn’t have – Scorpius had been panting in his ear rather heavily at the time.

Plus, there was the fact that Al couldn’t seem to stop touching him. He let his hand linger too long on Scorpius’s shoulder when saying hello at the breakfast table. He stood much too close to Scorpius in the halls. And he frequently let his hand rest on Scorpius’s knee or, worse still, ran it up Scorpius’s inner thigh under the cover of the table while they studied in the library. And while Scorpius knew no one could see, he also knew people were watching, that it was only a matter of time until someone commented on the fact that Al sat awfully close to Scorpius, that his hands never seemed to be above the table. 

And so perhaps it wasn’t entirely surprising when the rumours started.

“Did you hear about Scorpius Malfoy? He’s gay! I had no idea. Though really, I heard his parents split because his dad had a male lover and you know what they say, the apple doesn’t fall far from the tree.”

“No, really, Genevieve Milton said she saw Scorpius Malfoy and Al Potter out behind Greenhouse Three going at it like rabbits. Said Malfoy had his hands down Potter’s trousers and everything. And I mean, they’re always together.”

“I heard Malfoy was caught giving blowjobs in the empty classroom on the second floor. Apparently he was in there with some fourth year. Can you imagine? So disgusting! Really though, what can you expect from a Malfoy. Deviants, the whole lot of them.” 

“Al Potter and Nathaniel Murray made a bet that Al couldn’t get Scorpius to sleep with him before the year was out. I heard if Al loses, he has to give over his Firebolt HP4. You know, the one Quality Quidditch Supplies presented him with for him for his seventeenth birthday. Remember? They sent it over by owl and the package sang a big song and showered him with confetti when he opened it at breakfast? I mean, everyone knows Al’s never cared about brooms but Murray’s always wanted it.”

“Supposedly Malfoy was in Knockturn Alley over the holidays. I heard Lesley Pemberton’s brother saw him coming out of some shady apothecary, looking all shifty. And now all the sudden people are talking about him and Al Potter. I’m telling you, he’s got him under a love potion or a curse or something. There’s just no way Potter would ever be with Malfoy. No way.”

Some of the rumours contained a hint of truth (and well, that one about Greenhouse Three was just plain true) but most of them were total shit and Scorpius did his best to ignore them. And really, it wasn’t that hard – he’d had a lot of practice at ignoring rumours.

11.

It was Monday night, library night, and Al and Scorpius had decided to actually spend it in the library, studying, as they had spent the last four Monday nights up in the abandoned classroom on the fifth floor leaving an impressive pattern of arse prints in the dust on the desktops. No matter how heady the relationship, Scorpius knew Al was serious about getting into the Curse Breaker program and Scorpius needed every mark as high as possible to make up for his unfortunate surname. That said, if Al’s hand managed to find its way into Scorpius’s pants for ten minutes at some point, well, he wouldn’t complain. 

He stepped into the library and made his way towards their usual spot in the far corner. He was just about to round the last set of shelves when he heard voices, Al’s and someone else’s. He couldn’t really say why he did it but instead of just stepping out to see who was at their table with Al, he hung back and listened. 

“So how are things going with Malfoy anyway? You any closer to sealing the deal?”

Scorpius froze.

“Ah, Nate, wouldn’t you like to know?” Al replied.

“Of course I want to know! Need to know where things stand with our bet. After all, I’ve wanted that broom since the day the owl dropped it your undeserving lap.” 

Al laughed at this. “Mmm, yes, I seem to recall you saying something about that a few hundred times. Well, if I have my way, you won’t be getting your hands anywhere near that broom.”

Scorpius heart was suddenly racing. He couldn’t have heard that right. He couldn’t have.

“You’re that confident then?”

“Let’s just say I have a pretty good idea of where things are heading between me and Scorp.”

“Al Potter, you dirty bastard.”

“Hey! If I recall correctly, this was your idea.”

There was more laughter then the conversation turned to other things. Scorpius backed away slowly. It couldn’t be. He had to have heard it wrong. He _had_ to have. 

But he hadn’t and he knew it. Plain as day, where anyone could hear them, Al and Nathaniel Murray had been talking about the bet, the one Scorpius had believed was just a rumour, the one he hadn’t given a second thought. 

He felt like someone had punched him in the gut. He sagged back against the bookshelf, tried to catch his breath. 

Fuck, he had _believed_ him. Believed Al with his stupid, pleading eyes and his apologies and his fucking letters when Scorpius knew better. He _knew_ better! Al was a liar and a schemer and could work a plan better than Salazar himself. Scorpius knew that and he had fallen for it anyway because he wanted it to be true, wanted them to be friends, more than friends. Fuck, he was every bit as pathetic and clingy as Al had accused him of being all those years ago. What was it going to take before he learned, for good, that he could never, _never_ trust Albus Potter?

He felt bile rising in his throat, felt his face flush. He needed to get out of there. Immediately. He groped along the shelf, trying to get a hold, steadying himself as he made his way out of the library.

***

He didn’t really remember going back to his dorm room and crawling into his bed but that’s where he was an hour later when he heard a knock on his door. 

“Scorpius?” Al’s voice came through the heavy door of the dorm room. “You in there?”

Of course. Of course, Al would come looking for him. Had to keep up the image of the devoted boyfriend, after all. Scorpius bit back the hysterical laughter he could feel burning in his throat.

The door cracked open and Al peeked through, his eyes seeking out Scorpius. “Hey. What happened to you? We had a study date in the library tonight.”

Well, no point delaying the inevitable. The sooner this was over, the sooner he could get on with the pathetic joke that was his life. Scorpius got out of bed and walked across the room purposefully. He stopped a few feet from the door, steeled himself for the fight. “Is there something you want to tell me?”

“About what?” Al asked as he stepped into the room.

Scorpius closed the door with a wave of his wand, putting a locking spell on it for good measure. He was in no mood to be interrupted. Al raised his eyebrows at this, a suggestive smile stretching across his face but it faltered when he saw Scorpius’s cold look.

“About us, about why you’re with me. Is there something you want to tell me?”

“About us?”

Al looked so believably perplexed, Scorpius thought the Slytherin had missed his calling. He was clearly meant for the stage. 

“I’m giving you the chance to come clean,” he said, impressed at how calm his voice sounded when his insides were jumping unpleasantly.

“Scorp, I have no idea what you’re talking about. Honestly.”

Scorpius felt his irritation rise swiftly, sharp stabs of impatience and annoyance. Why was Al pretending? There was obviously only one thing Scorpius could be talking about. But fine, if he wanted Scorpius to lay it out for him, then he would. He was done with the games. “I went to the library. I saw you there with Murray.”

“And?” 

“I heard you, Al. I heard you two talking about your bet. You know the one where you have to give over your broom if you can’t fuck me by the end of the year?”

There. He couldn’t make it much plainer than that. 

“What?” Al gaped for a minute and then a look of relief washed over his face and he started to laugh and Scorpius was quite sure he had never wanted to punch anyone more in his whole life. “No, Scorp. No. You’ve got it all wrong.”

Scorpius’s fingers twitched and curled into fists. “No, I don’t think I do. I was standing right there. I heard what you said. You said he wasn’t going to get your broom, that you were confident you could fuck me in the near future.”

“I know,” Al said, the infuriating laugh still in his voice. “I know what I said and what it must have sounded like but Scorp, you misunderstood. Nate knows about us. He’s known for a while I was hung up on you. In fact, it was his idea that I do something about it already. Nate’s a good bloke but he’s dead straight and he still gets uncomfortable talking about the sex bit, you know? It was just his way of asking me about it. We were just joking around.”

“You expect me to believe that?” he spat. He couldn’t believe Al was trying to talk his way out of it! Did he think Scorpius was that stupid? Really, it was almost worse than the bet, Al standing here, still lying, still trying to win.

“It’s the truth.”

“Right. More of your ‘truth’.” 

“Look, you can ask Nate about it if you want,” Al said, the laughter now gone, replaced by a defensive tone. “He’ll tell you same thing,”

“Of course he will. He’s your best mate.”

“No, he’ll tell you that because it’s _the truth_.” Al’s hand was in his hair, that familiar gesture of agitation. “Shit, Scorp. How could you believe that? Do you really think I would do that to you?”

“Why not? Wouldn’t be the first time you’ve fucked me over, now would it?”

“I thought we’d moved past that.”

“And I thought you were done lying.”

“I’m not lying! There isn’t any –”

“Bloody fucking hell,” Scorpius shouted. “Would you just shut up! Just shut up!”

Al looked at him, stunned.

Merlin, he was so _sick_ of this. So sick of Al putting him through this. Even this conversation. Why couldn’t he just admit it so it could be over already? “I _know_ you’re lying. You know you’re lying. Why are you still pretending? Do you think I’m that stupid? Or maybe you think I am so pathetic, so desperate that I’ll go along with your story, let myself be taken in by your clever excuses and earnest little looks? Anything not to lose you, right? Well, fuck you.”

“Scorp, I –” 

“No. Just, stop. I don’t want to hear anything you have to say.” 

And it was true. There really was nothing left for either of them to say. 

He suddenly felt tired. So fucking tired. He just wanted it to be over, all of it, so he could crawl back into his bed and never come out again. 

But Al was still talking, still trying to salvage the situation. Scorpius didn’t hear the words. He just watched as Al talked, the expressions that crossed his face, the movement of his hands. It was all pointless. Scorpius wished he would just go away. More than that, he wished he had never known Al at all. “Merlin, I wish I had never met you. You have never done anything but make my life worse.”

Something flashed across Al’s face at those words but Scorpius was too tired to figure out what it was and moreover, he really didn’t care anymore.

“Is that really what you think?” Al’s voice was so soft Scorpius could barely hear it.

“It’s what I know.”

“Then there’s no point in us talking about this any longer.”

“No. In fact, I’d say this conversation should have ended about six and half years ago.”

There was a long pause where Al just looked at him, his expression unreadable. Then he nodded once, slowly. “Right.” 

Al made his way towards the door, quietly lifting the locking spell. He left, shutting it behind him. Scorpius stared at the back of the door for a long time but it was just a door. It held no answers, couldn’t explain why he had been so blind or how Al could have done this to him or why he felt so frighteningly numb. Eventually he stopped looking at it and crawled back into bed.

***

He stayed in bed for two days and then he owled his father that he was coming home. It was something he had never done. In all his time at Hogwarts, no matter what the other students had done to him, he had never called in his father’s promise from the first day at Kings Cross Station. But he did now. Because no matter how ridiculous and childish it was, he just couldn’t face seeing Al. Not knowing that he had been played the whole time, that he’d been falling for Al and Al and his friends must have been talking about it, laughing at him. Scorpius Malfoy, born sucker. 

His father didn’t ask him any questions when he Flooed home that night. He simply wrapped Scorpius in a tight hug and then handed him a glass of scotch. Scorpius tossed it back with a grimace, followed by several long moments of coughing. Once he recovered, he saw his father giving him a wry smile. 

“Do you want the rest of the bottle or is the one drink enough?” he drawled.

“I think the one was plenty, thanks,” Scorpius replied dryly.

“Do you want to talk about it or leave it until morning?”

“How about we leave it until never?”

His father gave him a pointed look. “Scorpius, you left school in the middle of term. We will have to talk about it at some point.”

Scorpius sighed heavily. “I know. Just not tonight.”

His father nodded. “What would you like to do tonight?”

“If you don’t mind, Dad, I’d just like to go to bed.”

His father’s face immediately fell into its familiar worried frown. Scorpius could draw that expression with his eyes closed. It was that look he always saw on his father’s face in his mind’s eye. He felt a fresh wave of sadness wash over him at the realisation. It was so hard, this life. Sometimes he was surprised they were both still standing. 

“If that’s what you want,” his father said carefully.

“It is. I’m just… really tired.”

His father nodded again and Scorpius stood to head up to his room. He was almost out the door when his father called after him.

“Scorpius?”

“Yeah, Dad?”

“Whatever it is, we’ll get you through it.”

Scorpius gave his father a grim smile. He couldn’t think of a single thing to say.

12.

The next morning, Scorpius was still sleeping when there was a knock on his bedroom door and his father entered looking extremely put-out.

“Scorpius, could you tell me why one of the Potter spawn has descended upon my house at half eight in the morning?” 

Scorpius struggled to sitting, his limbs heavy and slow with sleep. “Hmmm?” 

“Potter spawn. My house. _Half eight_.”

“Potter?” Scorpius asked, suddenly feeling much more awake. Not Al. Surely even he wouldn’t have the balls to show up like that.

“Yes, Scorpius. Potter. You know, the one in your class, the look-alike.”

Merlin. It was Al.

His father was looking at him, not unkindly for all his sarcasm, expecting an answer. “Do you want to see him or should I send him away? Before you answer, I should warn you, Potters are very persistent. There’s every chance he’ll just come back. They’re like gnomes that way. Or cockroaches.”

“It’s fine. Send him up.”

“Do you want a few minutes to clean up?”

“It hardly matters at this point. Just tell him to come up.”

Scorpius had barely finished brushing his teeth when he heard Al’s tentative knock on the door. Scorpius opened it and motioned Al inside.

He didn’t even let Al start. “You have about thirty seconds before I punch you in the face. Talk fast.”

Al blinked. Scorpius could practically see him adjusting his preplanned speech in his head.

“I have something I want to show you. If it doesn’t convince you I’m telling the truth about what you heard in the library, about my feelings for you, then I’ll leave and I won’t bother you ever again.”

Scorpius sneered. “What? More letters?”

“No. It’s something else.”

“So? Get on with it.”

“Just, wait.” Al shifted from foot to foot, apparently somewhat agitated about the situation. If he had to guess, Scorpius would say Al was nervous. “Let me say something first.” 

“Whatever. Just hurry it up.”

Al took a deep breath and nodded. “I was really angry, at first, that you could think that shit about the bet was true, that I would use you like that. I thought it meant maybe this thing between us wasn’t what I thought it was, that you really didn’t know me at all. But then I remembered what you said that day at my house, about the things that happened at the end of first year, how you’ve lived with them since then. You said I didn’t get it and I didn’t then, but I think I do now. What I did, it changed you, how you think about people, about the world. You expect people to fuck you over. Especially the people you care about. Especially me.”

Scorpius rolled his eyes. “Nice armchair analysis, Al. Are you expecting a prize for emotional sensitivity or something?”

Al gave him a look. Scorpius stared back, unaffected.

“I know I can’t undo the last five and half years,” Al continued after a moment. “Or just fix it all just like that. But I thought this might, I don’t know, be a start.”

Al slung his bag off his shoulder and pulled something out. He handed it to Scorpius.

It was a bottle. A small blue, glass bottle exactly like the ones Scorpius had received for Christmas every year since he arrived at Hogwarts.

Scorpius sat heavily on his bed, stunned. He wasn’t sure what he had been expecting but it hadn’t been that. 

“They were from you?” he asked, emotions roiling in his gut.

Al sat cautiously beside him. “Just let me explain before you freak out, okay?”

Scorpius nodded. His stomach felt like it was folding in on itself and there was that dreaded stinging sensation behind his eyes. He didn’t know whether they were tears of anger or relief or something else entirely but he was damn sure they weren’t going to fall. Not in front of Al. Not ever.

“Okay, where to start,” Al muttered, glancing around. His eyes landed on the bottle. “I should ask first, do you know what this is?”

Scorpius shook his head, not trusting himself to speak.

“It’s called an Empathetic Conveyance Charm. I’m not surprised you weren’t able to find out what it was all these years – it’s really obscure magic. I only know about it because my Uncle George was experimenting with it for 3W right before we started Hogwarts. He couldn’t get the charm to do what he wanted though, too dependent on –” Al cut himself off. “You know what? Not important. What’s important is what it does.”

Al pulled a book out of his bag and laid it on the bed between them. _Advanced Charms for Manipulating Memory_. He opened it to a marked page and pushed it towards Scorpius. Sure enough, _Empathetic Conveyance Charm_ was printed across the top of the page in bold letters. Scorpius skimmed the entry as Al continued to talk, letting the familiar act of taking in new information distract him from his churning emotions.

“What it does is it captures the feelings of one person, in this case, me, and translates them, so to speak, into a form that another person, that’s you, can understand.” 

“Using my memories,” Scorpius said, finding the passage on the page that matched what Al was saying. “It pulls on my memories, finds things from my experience that match up to your feelings?”

“Right, so if I was angry at you, it would show you a memory of a time you were angry. The memory might not have anything to do with me but it would show you the feeling I meant to convey by finding something in your own life that matches it.”

“Why would you give this to me and not tell me what it was? Not tell me it was from you?”

Al looked distinctly uncomfortable. “Merlin, okay, this part is where I’m kind of a coward. Remember in first year how you were having such a hard time?” Scorpius gave him a scornful look and Al blushed. “Well, of course you do. Obviously. Anyway, I wanted to give you something that would show you how I really felt about you, so you would know you had a friend, no doubts. See, the charm can’t lie. You don’t get to pick and choose which feelings it shows. It takes the whole of what someone feels, the good and the bad, and puts it out there. So you would know I was on your side, one hundred percent.”

It wasn’t lost on Scorpius that Al must have been very clear on his feelings for Scorpius to take the risk of giving him such a revealing present. “And giving it to me anonymously made sense because?”

“Because I chickened out at the last second. I thought you might think it was too girly or that I was too sappy or something. But I still wanted you to have it. So I wrote the note using a Quick Calligraphy Quill to disguise my handwriting, snuck into your dorm room, and left it on your bed.”

“And even after it became clear I didn’t really get what it was?”

Al shrugged. “I figured you’d work it out one day.”

“But I’d have never known they were from you.”

“It didn’t really matter. I just wanted you to know there was someone out there who cared about you.”

“And this year? When you walked into my room and saw it? Why didn’t you say something then?”

“Right,” Al replied sarcastically. “You’ll have to forgive me. I was a bit too shocked at what I saw when I walked in your room to be in any frame of mind to confess then.”

Scorpius bristled at that. “What? Like you haven’t fucked dozens of men before?”

“First of all, no. I told you, those are rumours. I’ve only slept with six people in my whole life, four of them men. Look, I’ve wanted you for a long time, Scorp. The charm must have shown you that, right? But until I walked in on you that day, I had no idea you might be interested in blokes. I was afraid you would bolt if you knew I liked you that way and we had just got back to being friends. So I just kept my mouth shut. And since then, it’s still seemed to the safest course of action.” 

Al’s eyes had that look again, that fierce but fragile look, the one that made Scorpius feel like everything was on the line. 

“What I feel for you, it’s not small, Scorp. It’s really big and intense and messy and I’m hoping it doesn’t scare you off for good. But you need some truth, something you can believe in no matter what. And that’s what this is.” He gestured towards the bottle, still in Scorpius’s hand. “I was hoping we could watch it together, so we both know, and then you can decide.”

He looked at Scorpius expectantly.

“What, right now?” Scorpius asked.

Al nodded. “If you’re willing.”

And surprisingly, he was. Al was right. He needed some truth and this was something they needed to do together. No more secrets. 

Scorpius pulled the stopper. “It takes a minute.”

Al nodded. 

The purple mist began to gather and grow in front of them and slowly the first memory took shape. As always, it was the memory of Scorpius and Al by the lake. 

“Hey! I remember this,” Al said, a smile on his face. “This is when I fell in the lake! Merlin, that was a fun day.”

They watched together as events unfolded, Al indeed ending up in the lake, Scorpius dragging him out, both of them laughing. Now that he knew what he was looking at, what the charm did, it was very easy for Scorpius to identify the feelings conveyed by this memory.

“This one is friendship,” Scorpius said quietly. “That day was the first time I felt like I really understood what it was to have a friend.”

Fuck, he felt like an idiot. This had been a bad idea, watching this together. He was just going to end up on display for Al, one memory after another, exposed. He looked away, embarrassed.

“Scorpius,” Al said gently. “It was the same for me. This memory is showing my feelings for you, remember? You’re the best friend I’ve ever had.”

Scorpius was saved from responding to this when the memory changed, now showing Scorpius’s father in Diagon Alley, his conflict with the angry man. When it got to the point where the man pushed Scorpius, Al inhaled sharply.

“You don’t have to explain this one. The look on your father’s face says it all. Protectiveness. No one hurts you. No one, no matter what it takes to stop them.”

The memory of the baby birds was back. Strange that it hadn’t been there at Christmas but was there now. “Guilt. Shame. I felt so horrible that day. I knew I had done something so fundamentally wrong, something I could never take back, never make right no matter how badly I wanted to.”

“Like the last five and half years,” Al said softly, and now he was the one looking away.

The scene changed again. It was a new memory, now, one Scorpius had never seen before. He watched as a scene of him and Al fighting played on the purple mist. It was one of their early fights, from the start of second year, when Scorpius felt so angry, so betrayed. He looked at Al wordlessly. 

Al just shrugged. “What? I told you I was pissed off you could believe that rumour even for a second.”

The next memory was Al and Scorpius in the Potions lab. Scorpius was stretched out on top of one the tables, his trousers around his knees. Al was kneeling over him, sucking him off with relish. It wasn’t really anything new, it was his memory after all, but seeing it like this, from an outsider’s perspective, was incredibly erotic. Scorpius couldn’t take his eyes off the sight of Al’s wet, pink mouth moving over his cock, Al’s strong fingers wrapped around the base in a tight grip. He watched as Al’s tongue swept up the underside of his erection, as his free hand travelled towards Scorpius’s arse. Fuck, that was hot. Scorpius felt his blood rushing south and he shifted on the bed. He heard Al snicker beside him.

“What?” he asked irritably. 

“Nothing.” Al’s tone was far too glib.

“ _What_?”

“Well,” Al began, a smug look on his face. “It’s just that, we haven’t even actually done it yet and I’ve already ousted that other bloke from your memory.”

Scorpius glared at him. “Whatever. You just give good head, is all.”

Al grinned and took Scorpius’s hand in his. 

Then the scene shifted again. Now it was Scorpius’s favourite memory, the one of him and his father playing in the garden. He and Al sat quietly together on the bed, holding hands, and watched it play. Scorpius smiled as he saw his younger self tossed in the air before falling back into his father’s waiting arms, saw them stretch out together on the lawn, watching clouds drift overhead, saw himself snuggle against his father’s side, held close, safe, cherished, loved. 

Loved.

As soon as he thought the word, he knew it was true. This memory was a memory of love, real love, complex and human and unconditional. The love Al felt for him.

The memory ended and the purple mist began to dissipate. The charm was done. They sat in silence, Al clearly waiting for Scorpius to say something, Scorpius too stunned to speak. 

“What was that last one?” Al asked after a moment.

Scorpius hesitated, not sure if he should name it honestly or not. But then, what was the point of it all, if they weren’t going to tell the truth? And Al had to know he felt that way, didn’t he? “Love.” 

Al smiled nervously and his fingers twitched a bit in Scorpius’s grip. “I told you, big and intense and messy. And for a long time.”

Since fifth year. That’s when that memory had first appeared. Al had been in love with him since fifth year. Not just missing him, not just attracted to him, but in love with him. 

Scorpius felt something stirring in him, something big and deep, something that was sure to overwhelm him, break him down beyond all recovery. He didn’t know whether to run from it or to it. He couldn’t move. He could barely breathe.

Suddenly, inexplicably, Al was frowning, extricating his hand from Scorpius’s. 

“You’re freaked out, aren’t you?” Al asked, a note of misery in his voice. “Look, I can go, give you some time to think about things. I just panicked when I heard you had left the school. I wanted to come find you right away, in case you were planning on going away for good. But you don’t have to make a decision right now. I’d completely understand if you –”

“Al,” Scorpius cut him off.

Al closed his eyes and let out a quick, harsh breath. “What?”

“Shut up and get your clothes off.” 

Al’s eyes snapped open. “What?”

“Shut up. And get. Your clothes. _Off_.”

Al grinned and was naked in a flash. Scorpius pulled his own clothes off roughly and then he was pushing Al back onto the bed, climbing on top of him, winding around him, kissing him, touching him. It wasn’t until they were pressed together, skin to skin, Scorpius able to feel every inch of Al’s body beneath his own, that he was finally able to breathe again. 

Al’s lips were on Scorpius’s throat, his mouth hot and wet, burning a trail across Scorpius’s skin. Scorpius touched Al everywhere, palms gliding over hard muscles, nails scratching over nipples, fingers gently caressing soft, hidden places. The dips and planes of Al’s body were familiar underneath his hands, but still he felt like he had to discover them all anew. Even though it had only been a few days, it felt like everything had changed and he had to reclaim the territory of Al’s body, make it known again. Make it his again. 

Scorpius’s hands gripped Al’s shoulders, pulling him closer. He felt suddenly desperate, like he couldn’t get close enough, like the barrier of air and atoms between them was still too much. He needed Al, needed Al with him and in him, needed to make Al a part of him for good. They had come so close to losing this, so many stupid mistakes, so many misunderstandings. They had lost so much time. It should have always been like this, the two of them together. His fingers dug into Al’s flesh, pulling him closer still. 

“I think,” Scorpius said in a muffled voice, his face buried in Al’s shoulder, “that you are quite possibly the stupidest person I’ve ever met.”

Al pulled back to look at him. “Your sweet nothings need some work, Scorp,” he said with a laugh, and bit at Scorpius’s lips.

“You think? I don’t know. It could be worse. I could just stick them in a bottle and send them to you anonymously.”

“Oh, you’re asking for it now,” Al growled and he flipped them over, pinning Scorpius to the bed, stopping his laughter with kisses.

Then Al’s hands were moving on his body, sliding across his ribs, down over his stomach, closing around Scorpius’s hips as he ground down against him. His kisses changed, deepened, and Scorpius felt the need behind them, driving and powerful. How had he ever missed it, Al’s feelings for him? They were right there, in every touch, every kiss, every look. Al’s kisses broke off and his mouth started travelling down Scorpius’s body. Scorpius moaned, his hands winding in Al’s wild hair, and he let himself go, let himself fall down into that place where only he and Al existed, where nothing hurt, where there was only pleasure and heat and desire. 

And later, when finally, _finally_ , Al was moving inside him, mumbling words of want and love against Scorpius’s neck, Scorpius closed his eyes and let himself believe them because he knew they were true.

***

An hour and half later, they were standing by the front door of Scorpius’s house, trying and failing to say goodbye. It should have been a simple enough thing, but they couldn’t seem to let go of each other long enough for Al to get out the door. 

“I really should go,” Al said for the fifth time. “I’ve already missed Charms. Rose will have my balls if I miss Arithmancy.”

“Well, we can’t have that, can we? I’m rather partial to your bits,” Scorpius drawled, his hand snaking between them to cup Al’s balls.

Al growled and pulled Scorpius into a rough kiss. Scorpius laughed against his lips before curving his body into Al’s, pressing tight. The kiss had just started to get interesting when they heard a pointed cough from behind them. They broke apart to see Scorpius’s father standing in the entrance hall, a wry look on his face.

“Oh, life’s little ironies. Moments like these, boys, are how we know the universe is paying attention. And has a bad sense of humour.” He turned to face Al. “So, young Potter, am I to take it that we’ll be seeing a lot more of you in the future?”

Al, whose cheeks were pink from embarrassment, gave a sheepish grin. “It’s looking that way, sir.”

“Well, next time, let’s try to remember it is impolite to drop by unannounced, especially before ten, hmmm? I appreciate your enthusiasm but really, very poor manners. I’m sure it’s entirely your father’s fault, somehow, though, so I’ll let it go this time.”

At the mention of Al’s father, Scorpius felt a small flare of panic. Now was not the time for one his father’s ‘why the world would be better off without Harry Potter’ tirades. Best to get Al out of there as quickly as possible. “Yes, yes, Dad, point taken. He’ll come at a much more appropriate hour next time. But Al has to be getting back to school right now, don’t you Al.”

“I do, actually,” Al agreed, sliding his rucksack on. “If you’ll excuse me. So, Scorp, I’ll see you for dinner tonight?”

“Yes , I’ll be there.”

“All right. I’d better get going then. I’m sure Rose has already started huffing indignantly about my absence.”

Al had almost cleared the door and Scorpius was just about to breathe a sigh of relief when his father called out, “One more thing, Albus.”

Al stopped, stepped back into the house. “Yes, Mr Malfoy?”

“You’re not twelve years old anymore,” his father said, his face deadly serious. “If you fuck things up this time, you’ll have to answer to me.”

Scorpius groaned loudly. His bloody father. Fuck.

He turned towards Al, expecting to finding him looking embarrassed or outraged or somehow upset but instead Al was looking steadily at Scorpius’s father, his face just as serious. He nodded firmly. “I wouldn’t expect any different, Mr Malfoy. But you don’t have anything to worry about. I’m not going to mess it up this time.”

“See that you don’t.”

And then Al was out the door and gone. Scorpius closed the door, leaning against it as he glared at his father. “For fuck’s sake!”

But his father brushed off the complaint with a wave of his hand and then Scorpius was the one on the receiving end of a rather pointed look. “A Potter, Scorpius? Really?”

But Scorpius knew his father far too well to be fooled. If he’d really had objections, he’d have made them in front of Al. Scorpius just grinned. 

After a beat, his father grinned back. “Well, I suppose I should just be grateful it’s not one of the Longbottom brood.” He laid a hand on Scorpius’s shoulder, pulling him away from the door and steering him in the direction of the dining room. “Now, let’s go have some breakfast. You can tell me all the events that led up to this truly bizarre moment, we’ll figure out exactly how Albus’s father is to blame for the whole mess, and then you’re back to Hogwarts.”

Epilogue

June 27, 2025.

Al,

I know, I’ve been home less than four hours and I’m already writing you but fuck me, you won’t believe the shit I came home to. 

You know how we have my usual ‘welcome home’ dinner my first night back and Andromeda, Ted and Daphne usually come? Well, this year, _my mother_ tagged along with Daphne. Seems she had some news she wanted to share. She’s getting married again, some wizard she met in Greece. But that’s not the best part, not by a long shot. The best part is, she expects me to come to the wedding. The fuck, right? She hasn’t so much as owled me in over four years and she thinks I’m going to come watch her marry some bloke I’ve never met? You should have seen my dad’s reaction. You thought he was angry in the Empathetic Conveyance Charm? That was nothing compared to this.

I am going to be so glad when I get to your house in a couple of weeks. It can’t come soon enough. 

Scorpius

***

June 29, 2025.

Al,

I think you might be the best boyfriend in the history of the world. I don’t think I’ll be able to walk for a couple of days, mind you, but Merlin, do I feel better. Remind me to have family crises more often. But also remind me to put up a silencing charm next time. My father’s been alternating between glaring at me and looking traumatised since you left. 

By the way, I found the application you oh so subtly left on my dresser. Your father already told me all about the opening in his department for a Potions Specialist, thanks. I’ll tell you the same thing I told him: no one in their right mind is going to hire a Malfoy to work in the Department of Magical Law Enforcement, no matter who his letters of reference are from. 

Of course, I might consider sending it in anyway if you were to make it worth my while. You’ve got two weeks until I show up on your doorstep. I’m sure you’ll come up with some way to convince me by then.

Scorpius

***

August 2, 2025.

Al,

Congratulations! I knew you’d get in! I can’t believe you were ever worried about it, with marks like yours. There wasn’t a chance in hell you weren’t going to get accepted.

You’ve probably already heard from your father but I’ve a bit of news of my own. Looks like I’ll be starting as the DMLE’s Potions Specialist next week. Seems I was wrong about your dad’s reference letter, after all. And before you write me some diatribe, yes, I am well aware that I am more than qualified for the job. But you and I both know your dad is the only reason they looked past my last name long enough to see that. 

Anyway, I’m stuck at home tonight but I’ll be at your place tomorrow just after supper so we can celebrate properly. Make sure there’s some reason for your dad and sister to be out of the house. I plan on being loud.

Scorpius

***

August 19, 2025.

Al,

Yes, I was aware of the fact that we’ll both be living in London come September. What’s your point?

Scorpius

***

September 20, 2025.

Al,

I’m stuck at the office and probably won’t be home in time for dinner tonight. Also, I’m going to stop at the store after work and pick up a few things. I know we’re out of bread and shampoo. If you think of anything else we need, send a reply with the owl. 

Hope your classes went well today. I’ll see you when I get home. 

Be naked.

Scorpius

The End


End file.
